


Not Freudian's Psychology

by fandomfluffandfuck



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: (Chris figures out that he's into kink okay), (This Entire Fic Is Just Seb's Oral Fixation Driving Chris In-fucking-sane), (i like vocal partners... so i write them like that), (just in the first chapter), (kinda), A little angst, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Beard Burn, Bearded Chris Evans, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sebastian Stan, Chris Is A Natural Dom, Chris' First Time With Another Man, Cock Rings, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, Come Marking, Comeplay, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Confessions, Consent is Sexy, Conversations, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daydreaming, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dom Chris Evans, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, Erotic Drooling, Fantasizing, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, Frottage, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Hickies, Hopeless Romantic Chris, Inappropriate Erections, Kink Discovery, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Moaning, Nipple Play, On Set, Oral Fixation, Oral Fixation!!!, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outed Sexuality (voluntarily), Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Secret Crush, Self-Discovery, Sexuality Crisis, Shenanigans, Size Kink, Spit As Lube, Sub Sebastian Stan, Subspace, Suckling, Teasing, Throat Fucking, Tickling, Time Skips bc I write way too much and if I didn't it'd be boring, Top Chris Evans, Wet & Messy, Wine, erotic crying, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 66,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfluffandfuck/pseuds/fandomfluffandfuck
Summary: Chris has been in love with Sebastian for as long as he's known him.That's a fact. What's not a fact is if Sebastian returns his feelings... Chris has never even considered the fact that Sebastian might return them, so, he's just kept them to himself. Or as much as he could. He's kind of obvious about it but who can blame him when Sebastian has the most intense oral fixation, a fixation that flies right over Chris' head because of his own Sebastian fixation until some exciting things develop between them.(Disclaimer: the title is an in this is not your average ___ so, like, not just your average Freudian's Phycology because that's not what this is about. Sure Seb's oral fixation is literally what I based the entire plot off of but I literally do not mention Freudian's psychology (or the five stages he theorized) beyond the first couple of paragraphs in this story. The reason I do mention it is because it was the only thing I could think to title this lmao, I am sorry and I am aware of the poor connotations that his theories have as well as the inconstancies and incorrect ideas. I've just run out of title creativity I guess.)
Relationships: Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Comments: 23
Kudos: 95





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, real talk, this is literally just a chronological look at the progression of Chris and Sebastian's journey together as told through Sebastian's oral fixation. It will go from before they were together to the "ending" dynamic they build from their cravings for one another about a year into their relationship. 
> 
> This chapter is titled "Before" because it's before Chris is really aware of Seb's fixation, as in he notices it but doesn't know what it is really. He doesn't have words for it yet but he knows there's something there. 
> 
> Also, as always, I'm adding tags as I go.

**_Sigmund Freud, an early 1900s psychologist, developed and introduced a theory on psychosexual development (meaning a theory on how humans develop certain sexual practices, behaviors, and wants). Freud broke this human experience down into five stages (oral, anal, phallic, latency, and genitals) of psychosexual wants and needs that influence behavior as an adult. Freud theorized that children need to have certain stimuli and if they are not given them or provided with too much of one then as an adult they will have a compulsion to seek out that certain stimuli beyond the realm of what would be considered “normal”. This does not include sexuality (who the person finds attractive), just the wants that they have for themselves or from their partner._ **

**_Today it is seen as accurate according to some psychologists but not to the majority, however- rivaling studies have not been done in modern times so counter arguments can be difficult to construct, although most arguments are that childhood is not the end all be all of behavior and every human is different._ **

**_Unfortunately Freudian’s theory is often applied to offensive beliefs or accusations, looking at it as a way to explain the “trauma” behind someone’s needs or wants. Overall though, the psychologist just gave modern psychologists the basis for the tool of psychoanalysis (both a method for treating mental illnesses and a theory for human behavior as a whole)._ **

_ Chris  _

Chris still remembers the first time he saw Sebastian. 

Which,  _ of course  _ he does, he doesn’t need a mirror to know that he’s a  _ very hopeless _ hopeless romantic- naturally he would remember the first time he saw the love of his life, y’know, the love of his life who doesn’t know that he’s in love with him. Not that Chris hasn’t thought of telling him, of course he has thought about it. It’s just… not practical. At the time, back when they were terrified together and filming the first Captain America - the film that they all kind of were thinking would ruin their careers - Chris had just thought it was a silly crush. Maybe even just a man crush… even though Scott had put up with about two seconds of that line of reasoning and had literally laughed in his face. Siblings, y’know? But also- it was a good wake up call. 

No. Sebastian wasn’t a "man crush". 

He wasn’t someone Chris wanted to be and he wasn’t someone he admired; he was (and is) the only person Chris wanted to be with even though the previous almost thirty years of his life he had never once looked at a man the way he looked at women. 

He had never thought about sexuality about being completely based around the people before, he never thought that it was a choice… he just… he assumed that he was straight because he was. That was the way his brain was programmed. He never thought he was straight because he literally just hadn’t met the right person yet. Which he is aware is an argument made to tear gay or queer people down but he literally cannot look at it any other way, it’s not that Sebastian changed his sexuality or something, he just unlocked some part of him that was  _ waiting.  _

Besides, it’s kind of stupid looking back. He’s always says in chatty, kind of out of control but not really- just anxiety fueled press shit that he hopes everyone has those romantic movie moments. And he does. It’s never been a lie. But somehow his own moment hadn’t occurred to him until he was trying to tell the story to Anthony Mackie and he got laughed at because he apparently needed to  _ “chill it with the exposition- it sounds like you’re trying to tell me how you met your wife”. _ He had never… never thought out loud like that. He’s not sure if Mackie knows he’s in love with Sebastian or not. He’s not sure if anyone does besides himself and Scott. He always assumed his moment would be something like being stopped at a train station by the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, bumping into someone else and having their coffee spilled all over you while you  _ stare  _ because how on Earth could you not? Or, like, bumping into someone and making them drop whatever was in their hands and so you bend over to help them pick up their things and end up hitting your foreheads together, then you look up at the same moment, lock eyes, and  _ know.  _ Or maybe you go out on a blind date because your friend keeps insisting that you’ll be  _ “perfect”  _ together and you are honestly just going to keep them from bugging you but then you get to chatting and you don’t stop, going on and on, from coffee to dinner to a movie to  _ hey, do you maybe wanna come back to my place?  _ Those dates that you never want to end. Or just… 

He didn’t think the first time his eyes landed on the love of his life that it would be in a break room in Liverpool in the UK of all places. He didn’t think he would be soaked all the way to the bone and staring at the most radiant man he’s ever seen, shining in the dim, dreary light of a storming sky with a smile that’s best described as  _ kittenish.  _

Sebastian had been talking to a group of assistants and interns, making them all break out into giggles and shy, blushing smiles (even though a few of them had been men that he now knows were about the same age but at the time thought they were much older because Seb certainly has a baby face). Those were the interns and assistants which he had tried to speak to but didn’t get much of a response from other than  _ “can I get you something, coffee, tea, biscuits?”  _ because they were apparently frightened of him- according to Kevin at least. Intimidated of the lead actor while they were delighted by the person who was supposed to be his second in command. Huh. 

Sebastian had not been soaked to the bone, he was just slightly damp as if the storm had seen him and pardoned him. Sidestepping him because he was too pretty to touch, too beautiful to ruin. His hair was wet enough, slicked back, for it to seem like he had meant to style it that way (he still remembers how embarrassed he was to realize that his own was flattened to his head in wet tendrils that were dripping down his forehead), his cheeks had some raindrops shimmering over his gorgeous bone structure like highlighter, and his clearly well loved denim jacket had big drops of drying rain painting his shoulders and back and chest. He looked so pretty and cozy, that denim jacket was worn over a sweatshirt and skinny jeans with boots. A very fitting, soft grunge look. Cute. Attractive. And hot. 

So many dizzying things and Chris doesn’t think of himself as shallow but who knows, he very well might be because he hadn’t not thought of Sebastian after that even though he hadn’t been allowed to speak to him right then because hair and makeup had whisked him away. Literally handing him a towel like he was a dog coming in from a walk, muddied and wet, and sweeping him away, already rambling on about what they were going to do with his hair and face. All he had known of the other man was that he was  _ drop dead gorgeous  _ and that his name started with an S and assumedly had other letters because he didn’t remember what Kevin or Joe or whomever had told him his name was over the phone. 

The next time he had seen Sebastian was as Steve Rogers, him as James  _ Bucky  _ Barnes, and then the time after Chris honestly doesn’t know what they spoke about. Just that they clicked easily because he remembers watching the playful, gorgeous curve of his mouth as he spoke, as he laughed, and thinking,  _ huh,  _ because he knew he  _ loved  _ this person. Just not how or why he did quiet yet. 

Chris doesn’t just recall their first meeting; he remembers every time he’s gotten the pleasure of seeing Sebastian because he instantly noticed him then and he always notices him now. He finds himself looking through crowds both at events and not, trying to find that face. Looking for the handsome breadth of his shoulders, the lean shape of his mile long, clumsy legs, those pretty cheekbones, sweeping lashes, sweet yet wry mouth, and especially  _ his eyes. _ Pools that seem to contain the secrets to the universe in that Chris knows if he was allowed to stare at them as much as he wanted to everything would be more than alright. 

He thought he noticed Sebastian a lot during their first film together and he wasn’t wrong, per say, he just didn’t know how little he actually noticed him because for this film he can’t keep his eyes away from him. It’s like they’re both glued and magnetized to him.  _ He is even prettier and even more handsome than he remembered.  _

And for the first time he notices that Sebastian - when he doesn’t have the winter soldier’s muzzle on - always has something in his mouth.  Not like that,  _ Dear God. _

Looking back to  _ The First Avenger  _ he remembers that Sebastian had always offered him gum because he carried it with him pretty much everywhere he went (meaning everywhere when he wasn’t in costume)- which certainly was because he could not control himself enough to not stare at his mouth and Seb must’ve just assumed that he wanted some gum as well. But this time it’s much more often. Not the sharing or offering of gum. But the gum and other things that he has in his mouth. 

Chris had assumed that it was just something he noticed. The constant chewing of gum that made his sharp jaw bulge in a stupidly attractive way, the digging of his teeth into his own plush lower lip and the inside of his cheek, the here and there biting of his fingernails that occasionally earned him a scolding from their makeup crew, the disappearance of hard candies from that bowl they leave on the catering table for them despite the fact that none of them are supposed to be having artificial sugars  _ let alone  _ candy, and the bite marks on the few pencils and pens that Sebastian has in his trailer. Plus,  _ yes,  _ they’re all supposed to be hydrating and that but Sebastian doesn’t ever not have a water bottle that he’s sipping from or even mindlessly lifting to his lips despite the fact that it’s empty. 

Then, a week before they wrap Scarlett makes a quiet comment to Sebastian when they’re sitting in a little impromptu meeting, gathered around a table that had breakfast set up on it earlier in the morning, and everyone is trying to work through a scene that doesn’t fit but also doesn’t not fit so much so that they’re cutting it out- they just need to rework it apparently. And for some reason they (the actors) need to be there for it even though it’s definitely a directors and writers issue. They aren’t even running some of the reworked lines that they’re coming up with; they’re just sitting and slowly melting into their chairs.  _ Plus,  _ Sebastian doesn’t even have  _ any _ lines in this scene because he’s only in the beginning for like half of a second so there’s no reason he can’t be doing something else. Chris isn’t sure what the fuck the reason is, he just knows, looking around, that they’re the only bored ones. The crew is having fun with this.

Sebastian himself is so bored that he’s cycled around from biting his own fingernails to chewing possibly all the way through his lip to picking up the pen he’s been fiddling with, spinning over his fingers or shaking or pulling the cap off right after he pushed it on and so on, and is just sticking the end of it in his mouth. The cap perched between his teeth. Highlighting the perfect pout of his lips and driving him fucking insane. 

Chris doesn’t notice it really beyond the fact that it’s become the center of his universe, he looks normal like that, as in, it’s like a normal thing for him to do. He does it all the time. 

Scarlett notices though - probably because she’s not constantly staring at him - she leans back because she’s sitting to his left while Seb is on his right, talking behind his back to get to him. “Sebastian,” she offers quietly, amused and narrowing her eyes at him, chuckling a little under his name while she reaches out to bat at his arm with her hand. His hand falls away from the pen, but he leaves it in his mouth. Dangling elegantly from the arch of his pretty, pink lax lips and white teeth. 

_ “What?”  _ He asks, whisper-shouting and sweetly oblivious, speaking around the pen. His mouth is candy red, his lips always seem to be red and at least a little swollen or cracked because he apparently is always biting them. Even when he has other things, like pens, to distract his teeth. Chris holds in his smile and hopefully also all the affection that wants to slip into his gaze- he calls himself an actor but he’s not good at acting on anything other than what he actually feels when he’s just being himself. 

“You’re gonna get sick,” Sebastian looks at her confused, his head tilting to the side like it usually does when he doesn’t understand something. Embracing the confused puppy look that the internet  (and himself) goes wild for. She shakes her head at him, still cheerily amused rather than condescending or upset. Scarlett nods her head at him then, her gaze going from his to the middle of the table. Chris doesn’t follow for a moment, stuck in his carousel of thoughts about Sebastian’s lips, when he does match her gaze he sees that there’s a small pile of mints in the center for whatever reason. Probably the caterers again, Chris loves to hate this particular company, they make it so fucking easy for his attention to be drawn to nothing but Sebastian with there lovely habit of making sure mints and hard candies are always available. He grabs one. Scarlett keeps speaking, doing that thing where she seamlessly democratically controls multiple people at once, “you’re gonna get sick if you do that- you’re putting germs straight into your mouth, y’know. Who knows where that’s been.” 

Chris intends to pass the mint to her so she can pass it to Sebastian in the final point of her speech but she won’t take it and looks at him in that way she does that’s a very joyful  _ you dummy  _ sort of look that she’s perfected over the years they’ve known one another, she chuckles again. And Chris assumes it’s at him because he didn’t just immediately hand the mint to Seb but then he’s turning to give the candy to Sebastian and his cheeks are bright red. He chuckles breathlessly too, helpless against it. Any other thoughts flying away like migrating birds. 

Their fingers brush as he passes the sugar off, shivers march up his forearm to his spine, spreading through his body. The crinkle of the plastic wrapper might as well be the sound of the electricity crackling through his body. It’s just their fingertips and it should be nothing. But it’s not. It never is nothing with Sebastian- not to him.

Scarlett’s voice reminds him to pull his hand away before it gets suspicious or awkward, “don’t worry,” she laughs between the syllables, easy and happy, “I won’t tattle and tell anybody that I just had to give you the same talking to that all toddlers need at some point.” She winks at him and Sebastian makes a very cute, very embarrassed noise that’s so quiet that Chris doesn’t really know what to make of it. He’s not sure if he really heard that or not and he’s not sure if he wants to answer that question because if he did hear it then he’s going to think about it for the rest of his life. Especially when he tries to sleep tonight. Fuck Sebastian and fuck every little adorable or outrageously attractive thing that he does without noticing. 

Sebastian carefully takes the pen out of his mouth, slow like he doesn’t want to be seen doing it now that he’s conscious of what he was doing and wincing a little at himself as he wipes it on his pants to clean it of his saliva, leaving the pen in his lap rather than putting it back onto the table. Patting it once like he’s encouraging it to stay where he’s put it as if it’s a pet. Replacing its presence with the mint he’s been given. 

He licks his lips after he parts them so sweetly, his tongue wetting them gorgeously, slipping the mint into his mouth with a move that’s so smooth and graceful that his head is spinning with it. He could watch him slip candy between his lips for the rest of his days, that would be heaven, but, it won’t be. Chris is going to go to hell for the spike of arousal that stabs through his groin. He’s not going to go to heaven. 

Chris is going to go to hell for sure.

Even more so than he already was for being so entranced by such a simple, innocent move as seeing someone put candy into their mouth. Because he honestly can’t even wait to get back to the serviced apartment they’ve put everyone up in (his is literally only twenty minutes from the set) to take care of himself. He  _ can’t. _ So he’s in his trailer, newly freed from work with the door locked and his hand creeping up to the waistband of his jeans. Grabbing the lotion that he honestly hasn’t ever used for  _ this  _ in a mad dash and kicking his shoes off like a kid. He’s been half hard on and off after that little display- mostly on though, if he’s being truthful. Which is embarrassing as all hell because,  _ hello,  _ the last time he was so pathetically desperate and enthralled was when he was like fucking  _ fifteen  _ and swimming in hormones and  _ then _ watching one of his peers lean over his desk purposely, smiling at him and watching him sputter over the clear view of her boobs, taking her own sexuality into her hands for the first time. 

Chris throws his head back, forgetting that the couch in his trailer is not like the couches in his homes and is too close to the wall to do such a thing as throw his head back and he hits the back of his head against the wall. Pain drips down his neck and he squeezes his eyes shut. His hand pauses it’s work in his lap. Wincing as he breathes out unsteadily through his nose, he’s so  _ fucked.  _ But not. Because no. He’s just a fucking idiot- that’s all. An idiot who’s gotten laid but never should have because he’s just an entire mess.  _ How has anyone allowed him to do anything to them? _

Still, in just the same way that his eyes are always magnetized to Sebastian in a crowd or otherwise his hand is pulled toward his throbbing cock once more. Providing himself with more than a quick grip meant more to help get himself under control than for pleasure. His hand moves almost without him realizing it even though he knew all along that he was going to do this. He  _ needs  _ this. 

He sighs quietly, relieved, massaging himself over his jeans, soaking in the sharp contrast of pleasure as opposed to the pain of hitting his head. Breathing a little heavier instantly. He’s already so hot and worked up that it surprises himself even though he lives in this body and he should’ve been aware of how much Sebastian gets to him. And he can’t help but feel a little guilty for how hard he already is. How much his erection is already pressing uncomfortably into his zipper and how much he’s already throbbing. Sebastian didn’t do  _ anything,  _ he’s just… just-

That fucking  _ kid.  _ Sebastian just does  _ something  _ to him. 

And he’s been trying - a goal that’s completely private and stashed away in the back of his head - to not fucking jerk himself off to his fucking co-star when they’re working together. But it's clearly not working very well because of his current situation. And he’s breaking over something so  _ stupid. _ He’s crumbled against that self imposed rule too many times to count even though he’s been sparingly using his desire for Sebastian as material to get himself off. At least the times he’s broken before were, like, sort of justified. Like that time Don came to visit and brought him donuts that weren’t healthy but weren’t unhealthy enough to be blacklisted- just a rare treat that made Sebastian fucking  _ moan _ because they tasted so good. However. Moaning inducing treats aside- because his eyes, body, and mind only seem to want  _ him _ he hasn’t been getting off all that much. He can’t and doesn’t jerk off unless it’s Sebastian on his mind and spilling over his lips. Which explains the neediness and extreme want he’s been feeling… having deprived himself over his own rule.

Wherever he was going with that thinking slips right the fuck out of his mind, being swept away in the tide of pleasure as his hand works himself over his jeans, unthinkingly stroking and rubbing himself while his brain redirects to _ Sebastian. _ Cupping himself and twitching forward into his hand. Making his cock leak into his boxer briefs just from the simple and sparing touches, twitching a little as he leaks, probably staining and ruining his underwear. But he doesn’t care. Not a single bit. 

He sighs again. Then he bites down on his own lip in an effort to at least look like he’s trying to not make too much noise but of fucking course that doesn’t fucking work because he’s then just thinking of Sebastian biting his lips. Shamelessly. Thinking of him making them swell a little and turning them red and shiny with the attention from his teeth. A truly mouth watering or mouth drying sight- it depends on his mood. Chris’ hand twitches and he fumbles his way through taking his cock out, the motion just as simple as breathing as he gets his other hand into the game too, imagining how eagerly Sebastian might bite his lip and how wide his gorgeous, sharp eyes might get if he were sitting between his thighs, awaiting the sight of his cock. Maybe they’d fall open even wider when he saw him. Maybe he’d just sit there and stew in his agony of waiting for him to get it out so he could suck him off-

The second he’s free from his jeans and briefs he’s stroking himself from tip to root. Throwing caution to the wind. He doesn’t even have lube yet. Groaning low in his throat, relief coursing through his veins right along with the hot, shameful pleasure and friction. 

He can’t stop himself despite the guilt.

Sebastian would look  _ so good  _ like that, sitting pretty, on his knees between his legs. Waiting to suck him off and taking him between his maddening lips. 

Instinctively Chris spreads his thighs, moving until he hears seams scream their protest, letting his legs fall as open as they can when he’s still got his pants on, fucking his hips up into his fist once or twice while imagining the sight of him. Completely ignoring the bite of the dry fiction- drooled pre-cum spreading over him aside… He’d be so eager. He always wants to be perfect for everyone, to never be in the way- he’d be so good at wanting to please him. He fucking  _ knows it. _ He can feel it in his fucking  _ bones. And he wants it, he wants to see it.  _

Chris strangles another groan that wants to work its way out of him but it’s useless when immediately after he’s taking his hand off his cock mindlessly and moaning in protest despite it being his own decision, bucking up into thin air and leaking as he reaches for the lotion he grabbed right before he parked his sorry ass on the couch. He pumps some into his hand, thickening and hardening a little more just out of trained response. The wet sounds dripping into the carnal, primal parts of him, revving him up even more.

He spreads it over his cock, ears burning with the obscene noises that in his brain are from Sebastian’s wicked yet sweet mouth not impersonal lotion, hitting his head back against the wall again. It doesn’t matter. What does is the feeling of touching himself, sweetened deeply with the biting friction removed. He gasps a little. Maybe he tears up too, who fucking knows. Fucking up into the fist as he wonders if Sebastian would like that or not. Would he want to get his throat fucked? His face fucked?  _ Fuck.  _ He moans,  _ loud, _ his lip falling from between his teeth. Sebastian’s so  _ pretty.  _ He’d look so,  _ so fucking pretty,  _ having his face fucked. Maybe he’d make some of those little noises that he does in the back of his throat sometimes but instead they’d be out of pleasure, chasing the feeling of being used for someone else’s pleasure. Those grey-blue, gorgeous eyes would probably water too, maybe he’d cry a little-

His hips smack the base of his fist shockingly loudly at the mental image of not only having Sebastian sitting between his spread thighs but between his thighs choking on his cock, moaning and fucking  _ crying _ over it. 

A moan of his own tears itself out of him before he can stop it.  _ Jesus.  _ Pleasure rushes through him and only more obvious sounds try to bubble up out of him so he just stuffs his other hand into his mouth. It seems like the only appropriate action. Biting down around it because you never know where the fuck poeple are at on a movie set and then-  _ then _ he’s picturing Sebastian sucking his cock until he cums into his mouth (or,  _ fuck,  _ maybe over his pretty fucking face, dirtying it up and  _ claiming  _ it) and then pulling himself out just to watch him chase his spent cock with a whimper because clearly he fucking has to have something to do with his mouth so…  _ maybe _ he’d beg for something in his mouth while he gets off.  _ Maybe he would need it. _ And,  _ god,  _ Chris could get him into his lap so with one hand he could jerk him off and with the other he could fill his mouth. Get a couple of his own fingers into Seb’s mouth and stroke his tongue while he fists his cock, feeling the vibrations from his moans and gasps at the same time that he feels him spilling over his fist. Hot and  _ hard. _ Gasping and moaning incoherently, whimpering his name as he loses himself to that pleasure. 

Chris cums.

_ Gasping  _ around his own fist, shocked over his own peeking pleasure. Not having realized that he was so close to the edge in the first place. 

He sits and bathes in the gold tinted place that orgasms always dump him into, pausing, not really doing anything. Letting his jaw go lax but keeping his hand there because it feels like it would be a waste to move yet. His hand softens around his spent cock, cradling the sensitive, softening flesh. Sighing and panting a little. Enjoying the limp feeling, being absorbed back into the couch like furniture’s version of a hug. The wall behind him takes the weight of his head, miraculously not repelling him and making him hit his head too hard, taking mercy on him instead. 

Until he looks down,  _ “Jesus,” _ he mumbles to himself, staring down his fist and cock and the cum painting his skin. The weight of what he’s just gotten himself off to hitting him once more, the way it always does after he does this. 

It’s not that he’s guilty for jerking off to his male co-star. He’s past that now. He’s just embarrassed to be jerking off over a  _ co-star,  _ it would make him feel the same way if it was one of his female co-stars… it just feels a little, like, perverted almost? Using someone for his private pleasure in such a way. Bending them for your pleasure. 

And even though he’s pretty sure he’ll never dig up the courage or bravery to tell Sebastian about how he feels, so he’ll never know that this is something that Chris does, it still makes him feel strange. Again a bit like a pervert or just, like, a very creepy guy. Sure, it’s something lots of guys do, get off to not explicitly sexual things that women do if they happen to like that woman because a good percentage of men are too horny for their own good but… even when he was like fifteen… it wasn’t something he did. So. Why is Sebastian so different? Why is  _ he  _ so different with Sebastian? What is that fucking kid bringing out of him? 

If Sebastian Stan was going to kill him and have him buried with his unconfessed feelings of love, then it’s Anthony Mackie who saves him.

Mackie is known for being known, he’s loud and charming and so charming that it’s annoying to a lot of people so they’ve started just saying he’s annoying; or  _ “distracting”  _ when they’re too polite to just straight up call him annoying. Mackie is also known for being someone who can make anyone get along with him by either being so charming that the other person stands exactly zero chances of not falling in love with him, or he’s also able to just relentlessly tease people until they become his friend because they enjoy being prodded and poked and teased. Chris is pretty sure that Sebastian falls into the second camp while he falls into the first. Anthony is like a brother, he loves him like a brother and he’s pretty sure that love developed before his hatred for him did. Y’know the way you love your siblings but also don’t tell them that- you tell them you hate them. 

Sebastian is always being prodded and poked and teased. He’s always being led places by Mackie’s relentless shenanigans. It seems to be good for Seb, to have someone to distract him from being shy for enough time to turn him into a goofball. To have someone to tug his hair and pull at his clothes. 

So it’s not unusual when Anthony walks up to where they’re sitting against a wall of one of the warehouses that they’re filming out of today, trying to escape the sun that’s blinding them but also making them sweat buckets, wearing one of his mischievous but million wat smiles. It’s focus is on Sebastian because of course it is- Mackie is like his brother but he’s like a twin brother or one who’s younger but only by like a year, they’re too close in age to really rag on each other that much, but Seb is the youngest brother. Maybe by like three or four years. Young enough that it’s super entertaining to tease him but not detrimental to their relationship, Seb still looks up to him. 

Anthony sits down in front of them, making a little triangle of their group, and taps on Sebastian's knee, making him lower his phone to look at the other man, “hmm?” He hums and Chris looks over at him (because how could he not?) and he realizes that the reason he’s humming rather than speaking is because he’s got the second knuckle of his index finger in his mouth. Sort of biting down on it but also just having it between his lips. All of his fingers curled into his palm, resting easily, making it look like it’s just a normal thing. Sticking your fingers in your mouth as an adult. 

Chris has to repress the shiver that wants to shake through his body as a voice from the back of his head whispers,  _ I want to stick my fingers into your mouth,  _ like that’s a normal fucking compulsion to have. A normal  _ want _ to have. Thankfully though Anthony is too caught up in coming up with whatever whip-smart jab he’s about to say to notice the look that’s probably obviously painting his face or the shivers that do manage to slip through. The universe is sometimes kind. 

“If you’re gonna do that,” Mackie jabs his finger into Sebastian's exposed side quickly, a sneak attack, making him jump away from him and into Chris’ own side as he squawks a little, “then maybe you should leave that mask on.” Chris feels his body thrum with warmth as Sebastian stays tucked into his body even after he’s done squirming away from his pressing finger. Seb stays pressed into his side from shoulder to hip to knees like he’s seeking shelter from Mackie, Chris fights himself. Wanting to smile like a goon at the contact. 

Sebastian narrows his eyes in a challenge even as he stays put, but the rest of his face falls into that confused puppy thing he does. Head tilt and all. Mackie chuckles, taking Sebastian’s wrist into his hand and shaking his arm a little in a wildly chaotic not handshake. Then he’s already getting up like he’s going to go back to doing whatever the fuck he was before he came over to torment Seb as he smirks, letting go of his wrist as he stands, “or you could stop wasting time putting your own fingers in your mouth and find someone else to help you out…” he looks a Sebastian in a particular,  _ knowing _ sort of way. “Plenty of guys around here, y’know, willing participants.” 

Sebastian gets the joke  _ way  _ before he does - he’s too caught up in Sebastian overall - sputtering and hiding his face in his hands so quickly that he doesn't even get to see the start of his blush. Which is impressive. That boy blushes  _ fast.  _ Mackie cackles from where he’s standing above them, apparently he has other things to do but they’re not important enough to have him missing the effect he has on Sebastian. 

Still, Chris can’t pay attention, not to anything that isn’t Sebastian. The second knuckle of his index finger on his right hand shiny with saliva and red, a few impressions of teeth marks present too, obvious against his golden tan skin. Calling out like a beacon to Chris for whatever reason.  _ Even his hands are pretty, _ Chris thinks wildly. He’s seen them a million times but he’s never looked at them in the way that his mind is making him now… maybe it’s just the shimmer from his saliva. After all, aren’t humans like crows in that shiny things seem more valuable- diamond rings and watches and necklaces like tin foil found on the side of the sidewalk, alluring with their shimmer? 

In fact, he’s so caught up in looking at his hands and thinking about his hands and trying to discern what makes them so pretty and so entrancing that he doesn’t really notice when Sebastian pulls them away. Deciding he’s apparently done hiding his face in his hands. He does notice Sebastian’s face. He does notice when Sebastian’s eyes sweep over his, looking at him like he’s confused again but passing it off. Instead deciding to look up at Anthony and smile at him in such a way that Chris is already trying to think of an excuse that he can use to get himself out of the fucking situation because  _ how? What?  _

The curl of his mouth is so kittenish and cute and arousing that it’s fucking  _ unfair,  _ “willing participants?” He asks, armed and dangerous with that  _ smile  _ and the tone lurking under the surface of his voice like the shadow of a shark seen from a boatdeck, “you could’ve just asked,” he offers. All but literally batting his eyelashes up at the other man. Making himself look as innocent as he can but also fixing Anthony with  _ that look _ he’s seen him use for those old roles where he got to play playboys, gay or straight, on those nights when he couldn’t help himself. Explaining his compulsions to watch specifically  _ those _ types of scenes away as wanting to know how Sebastian goes about every role he takes.  **Not** because they make him hard and give him more than enough clues as to what he might be like in bed. 

Mackie looks back at Seb and makes a face like he’s eaten something that he really doesn’t like the taste of but didn’t know until this exact moment, shocked. And if he wasn’t completely confused or half out of his mind with, uhh,  _ distractions _ then Chris is sure he would’ve laughed until he cried at that look. Mackie pushes his fingers into Sebastian’s hair to mess it up, giving him a noogie that’s mostly meant to fuck with his hair than hurt him, still making that face of mock disgust as he makes a gagging sound. Fighting back his bubbling, full laughter as he says, “you know I am perfectly  _ fine  _ with whatever the fuck you get up to in your private like. But. Y’know it is called a  _ private life  _ for a fuckin’ reason! I do not want in on, nor do I want any details about whatever the fuck  _ sexy seabass _ does after hours!”

And then with just another tussling of Sebastian’s hair, he’s gone. 

Walking away shaking his head as Seb calls after him, joy soaking his voice so thoroughly that Chris can’t help but smile- even if he’s got no idea what the fuck their conversation just was, unsure if he’s just a bit stupid or if he’s too distracted, “I thought you’d be flattered!” 

The other man turns around just long enough to give Sebastian the finger with a jubilant grin painted all the way across his face. And just because he’s a fucking theater kid at heart he even goes through with the theatrics of mock saluting them both, just with only his middle finger extended instead of both his index and middle fingers in the cheeky two fingered salute he seems to be the most fond of. Sebastian giggles and covers his mouth with his hand, a blush covering most of his face. 

Chris’ heart honestly skips a beat. He’s the fucking cutest. His skin feels like it’s buzzing, warm and filled with white noise because Sebastian’s still not moved, he’s still pressed to his side. Literally warming him with his body heat but also warming him with the fact that he’s  _ right there.  _ He’s shaking a little with residual laughter, his hand clamped over his face as he tries to calm himself down because Mackie also seems to be able to pull that helpless kind of laughter from Sebastian, making it so he can’t stop giggling until he’s crying and possibly actually on the floor, although, usually Anthony is the one who ends up on the floor first if either of them do. 

He still doesn’t know what just passed between them in that conversation and he’s going to blame that for why he doesn’t stop looking over at Sebastian. Obvious because of their heartwarming and heart-racing proximity.

“Chris?” Sebastian asks, his voice fluttering a little with his leftover chuckles but calm, low and clearly just meant for his ears only. His cheeks flush with heat, all of Sebastian’s body heat being pressed to his face rather than his side. His eyes are so pretty, grey and blue and icy clear, and being on the receiving end of such a look has him pausing. Freezing in place under the concern and care laced in those wide, delicate eyes. 

_ “Yeah?” _ He rasps, shoving all of the thoughts of  _ this would be the perfect rom-com set up for you to kiss him  _ back like the cartoons where kids clean their room by shoving everything into the closet until it bursts back open. Revealing their misleading mistake. 

“Oh,” Sebastian murmurs; his lips falling perfectly open before curling back into a shy smile, for a moment cold, hard fear jolts through Chris’ body, irrationally worrying that Seb can read his mind and is going to pull away from him. Leave him cold and alone. He doesn’t, he just huffs a puff of laughter to himself, “Mackie was, uhh, he was, y’know, making fun of me…” 

Chris tries to keep up the ruse that he’s not in love with Sebastian in the way he is, going for platonic love instead, “I know that Seb,” he nudges him, barely moving at all to get him to move, “that’s all he does, he fuckin’ lives to tease you, I swear.” 

Sebastian sees right through him as if he’s made of glass and just lays what he had been trying to say out on the line, “he was trying to make fun of me by  _ subtly”  _ he puts the word in air quotes and Chris grins, “telling me to go suck someone’s dick.” 

_ “Oh.”  _ Is the only thing that will come out of his stupid fucking mouth. 

A shrug falls off of Sebastian’s shoulders and Chris relishes in the fact that he can feel every second of the movement, pressed together as they are. He’s apparently not that freaked out by his stupid not-answer because he breathes in and out exactly two times (Chris can feel it and see it) and looks over at him with that smoldering, kittenish look. Blinking up at him and making the most of their tiny height difference as he manages to get out, “so I asked him, uhh, if he was, like, y’know, offering?” In a way that is confident in tone but not with the little stutters and filler words he interjects into the statement that sounds like a question. 

Again. His stupid mouth doesn’t work. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” Sebastian echoes. 

Chris kind of really wants to punch himself in the face.

His compiling of bravery and sorting through all of the words in his head takes a couple of moments. Moments which are filled with silence from an outsider's perspective, from his own, it’s internal screaming- so either way, it feels like years. Not minutes. Sebastian seems to know that he’s working through his own thoughts and leaves them in the sea of silence, which presses into his ears in juxtaposition to the sounds of his internal monologue. 

Eventually the thing that tumbles from his lips is not a poorly timed confession of feelings like he half feared and half hoped it would be but, “would you… would you have, if he- if he was offering would you have done it?” 

Again, a self punch or slap seems to be in order. Chris can  _ hear  _ his own insecurities dripping from his hesitant words. He can hear the shivers wrecking his insides reflected in those words, he doesn’t know what he’s most scared of here. He just knows he’s scared. 

Sebastian barely stops to think, “no.” He sounds certain, as if he’s thought about it before and come to that conclusion or as if it’s such an obvious given that he doesn’t need to think about it before knowing, “I’m not into Mackie.” 

The added statement is only four words (well technically five if you count the contraction separately) but those four words are enough to give Chris a heart attack. 

_ “What?” _ Spills over his lips with such urgency and volume that it scares even himself, making him wince and reel back with the jolt of anxiety cutting through his gut. Sebastian looks at him like he wants to laugh but is also just fucking concerned. Blinking blankly at him, an unreadable look on his face. “What?” He hears himself repeat again, feeling like he’s seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. He has to be dreaming or dying.  _ “Wait. Wait a fucking second,”  _ he’s practically hyperventilating, “you’re  _ just  _ not into Mackie. Not Mackie.” Sebastian nods slowly, “But. Like? Other men?” 

His words don’t make a fucking lick of sense but Sebastian is just smiling at him, laughing a softly, “yeah. Other men.” 

He might’ve said something else, he might’ve continued to explain but again. Chris’ mouth is the dumbest part of him and so he just ends up basically shouting,  _ “YOU ACTUALLY LIKE MEN? I THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST FUCKING AC-”  _

Sebastian’s hands land on his face and even though he’s smiling Chris understands that he wants him to shut the fuck up. His mouth snaps shut with an audible sound. Chris knows his own eyes must be open as wide as they can. Sebastian is just such a fucking actor that he always assumed he was straight and was just  _ playing,  _ just  _ acting  _ those parts where he was supposed to kiss other men. Chris couldn’t fucking tell a difference because he doesn’t know when Sebastian is playing a character- his brain doesn’t connect Sebastian to Bucky when he’s playing Bucky because Bucky is Bucky. He is a separate being. He never, never thought that Sebastian might actually be, be, like, gay or just fucking not straight. He never-

_ He never thought he had a chance.  _

Sebastian’s voice cuts through his thickening panic, gentle and even, “I like men. But I like women too and, y’know, that’s easier. With the industry and everything.” 

The clouds of  _ what? What? Fuck! What? What? Fuck! What? What the fuck?  _ Clear from his field of vision and Sebastian is right there, beautiful and kittenish and handsome as always. His face is open and easy like sharing his obviously secret sexuality with him isn’t any bit of a hardship. Brave in the face of vulnerability. His head and heart aches, even his  _ skin  _ aches. Sebastian is so  _ special.  _ So… so, so  _ everything.  _

He blinks at Sebastian, helpless to the words that just spill over his lips in worshipful whisper,  _ “I like you.”  _

And before he’s even allowed to panic about what the fuck he’s just said Sebastian is leaning forward. His hands still bracketing his face. His eyes clear and wide and shocked. His lips parting and his cheeks pinking. A stray strand of winter soldier length hair falls from behind his ear. His own body moves without his mind thinking about it, without ordering his flesh and bones to move. He tucks the strand back into place. Sebastian lets him. 

Sebastian kisses him.


	2. Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Sebastian and Chris have kissed they've decided to start dating in secret because somehow even though they were on a film set full of people, no one had been paying attention. And if they had... well they hadn't said anything of it. Sneaking away whenever they can becomes a giddy activity until they wrap.  
> After they wrap filming they don't get to see each other in person until the press tour, having lots of sweet phone calls, texts, and facetimes in the meantime (you can imagine that there's about four weeks between filming wrap and the start of the American leg of the press tour). 
> 
> This chapter is what happens after their first week of press, a Friday, when they decide to stay in rather than go out.

_ Chris  _

Doing press isn’t always torture.  _ But,  _ it certainly is when Sebastian is there so  _ close  _ to him yet untouchable because doing “press” means that their only company besides interviewers (and sometimes fans if they’re doing a panel or something) are cameras. Cameras that see  _ everything.  _ Neither of them want to go public, it doesn’t make sense to at this fragile point in their budding relationship neither does it make sense for them to go public at all- not when it risks what they’ve both built professionally, because as much as Chris likes to pretend that sexuality isn’t one of the factors that make or break actor he damn well knows that Scott, a goddamn fine actor, for example, should be given way more opportunities than he is. And he knows that when directors and producers and casting crews don’t want to mention why he was so wrong for the role it probably has to do with them not thinking he can play anything other than a blank white guy who’s simply gay for “representation” that’s not even explained enough to be considered a stereotype.

Beyond that  _ depressing  _ look at their field of profession and back to the current situation- Chris had assumed that since they’re together now it might be easier to not touch Sebastian. ‘Cause he’s allowed to touch him when they’re not on camera, y’know? After all, before they were together he was barely allowed to touch him - beyond a friendly pat here or a quick greeting hug - when all he wanted to do was pull Seb into a full body hug and pull him to the next available bed to make sure he could press him into the bed, make sure all of him felt cradled and held and  _ safe  _ and he managed to keep his hands to himself then. So, _ yeah, _ he thought now that he’s been able to do that (just once though- and it was only a couch, not a bed) that it would be easier. 

It’s not easier. 

Now that he’s gotten a taste of being able to touch Sebastian intimately and easily and as more than a friend it’s all he wants all of the time. Sebastian will laugh at something the interviewer said, smiling and scrunching his nose a little, his pretty cheekbones probably washing pink, and Chris’ hands  _ itch  _ to cup his face in his hands after leading Seb’s pretty hands to rest around his own waist. His lips pull up into a smile with Sebastian’s, but it’s not because he was paying attention to the joke, no, it’s because it’s either smile with a little bit too much intensity or reach out and tug Sebastian into his lap to kiss the fuck out of him. To breath in his scent and to feel the texture of the clothes he decided on that morning. 

It’s as if now that he’s been allowed to touch Sebastian his name has been scrawled on the inside of his skin - drawn with the lazy drag of fingertips up and down the inside of his forearm - and the only way the ink doesn’t itch to get out is when Seb’s skin is pressed to his. 

And… it’s not like  _ that. _ They have yet to do anything that requires taking some amount of your clothes off. He just-

It’s _difficult._ And even _thinking_ about how difficult it is for him makes him feel like a walking talking incarnation of _“first world problems, am I right?”_ with all his complaints against having the public’s attention. He just feels like that clumsy, giddy, overeager five year old he was once upon a time. All over again. Wanting nothing more than to reach forward to the girl he’s sitting behind in kindergarten class and pull her pigtails just to have her look at him again. The strongest compulsion to reach out to have a reaction because he knows, so vividly, that it’s real and Sebastian is actually his _boyfriend,_ but he also wants to make sure Sebastian is aware too because it’s also so close to every daydream that he’s had for the past fucking three or four years that it’s surreal. Sebastian, the _kid_ that he is, has turned him back into a kid too. He, for better or worse (although he has to be real, it’s all for the better), is just along for the ride. 

But what also makes this round of press particularly hard (in more ways than one because he’s still gonna go to hell when he dies) is that Sebastian of course still has his habit of chewing his lip or cheek or gum or pens slash pencils. Chris didn’t think that would change- he’s not that big of an idiot. It’s just that now he has to notice those things when he can do and is allowed to do things about it. He can call room service and have some hard candies delivered to Sebastian’s room if he wants. He can tap Seb’s cheek when they’re in the bathroom, taking a break from everybody else, and tell him to go easy on the inside of his cheek. He can. He does. And so does Sebastian, he still takes water bottles with him under the claim that his voice gets scratchy when he talks for too long even though doing press makes him even quieter (because he feels like even though his character’s name is in the  _ fucking title  _ that he’s not as relevant to the plot at the other actors are) so he really doesn’t need to worry about talking himself hoarse. Not unless someone asks him about space. Then he could talk for eight years. 

He usually just ends up pretending to drink out of his water bottle for a little too long because gum can’t really be had in interviews (it looks rude sometimes, it makes it kinda hard to talk freely, and if they’re mic’d too close than you can hear it… which isn’t good for anybody), chewing on the rubber part of the flip top straw for as long as he can without no one noticing. 

Chris still notices. His eyes still cannot get their fill of Sebastian. Even though they’re dating. Usually by the end of the day he hasn’t actually refilled his water bottle even if it is empty. 

And when it’s not the water bottle it's his lip or his fingernails. 

Chewing your fingernails is normal, Chris knows that, he’s never really done it but he knows enough people do that it’s basically normal at this point. And it’s not like he’s chewing on his fingernails so much that he’s hurting himself. His lip is a different story though because his lips are almost always bleeding by the end of the day. Most of the time it’s not visible because he usually hides the worst of the bites on the very inside of his lip or cheek rather than, like, biting and ripping the skin of his lower lip. 

Chris had tried to at least get him to not chew on his bottom lip  _ so  _ much because he continually has split it or chewed it raw daily even though they’re only a week into press. But he does it anyway. Chris thinks it’s cute (and very attractive a lot of the time), even if he is technically hurting himself. It’s like how some people stick their tongues out of their mouth when concentrating. Instead of fighting against a not so evil evil he just went out and purchased some Chapstick the other day. Gifting it to Seb and telling him to at least put it on at night so his lips have a little hope of recovering at night. His efforts had earned him a kiss. Which had him smiling like a goon for the rest of the day. 

They have separate rooms of course, no one knows about their relationship, and text before bed anyway, it’s become their default, so it makes sense for Chris to remind him at night.  _ Chapstick?  _ Is all he says sometimes but sometimes it's more drawn out like,  _ are you gonna save your poor lips for me and put on that Chapstick I got you?  _ It depends on what the topic is before Chris himself remembers. It’s not easy to forget for him though- he dreams of Sebastian’s lips often. 

Tonight he’s not worried about Sebastian chewing through his lip though. He’s not worried about their relationship getting out into the public from hidden cameras. He’s not worried about whether or not he can keep his hands to himself. He’s not worried. Not at all. He’s not worried tonight because tonight he has Sebastian all to himself. 

Normally on Friday nights like tonight everyone is going out and drinking, partying it up wherever they happen to be. 

Sebastian isn’t going out with the rest of him because he’s got a “headache” as he announced before they could all have dinner together, a  _ headache  _ which is apparently one of the ones he gets sometimes that are from being under blinding lights all day because like Robert he’s got super light sensitive eyes although, unlike Robert, he doesn’t have the confidence to rock sunglasses indoors. In the time that Chris has known Sebastian he’s known him to have those kinds of headaches a lot even though personally, from hearing him describe the way it feels he’s pretty sure they’re actually migraines- but who knows. 

Chris isn’t going out because he just “isn’t feeling it”. He texted that to Scarlett for not the first time. The truth isn’t far off. He honestly doesn’t feel like going out because he does feel like spending some alone time with Sebastian. Most of the time when he sends that text it means he’s either got too much anxiety to feel like good company or he’s on the edge of feeling that amount of anxiety and doesn’t want to risk it. Scarlett, bless her, understands and just sends him a  _ “got it text if you need anything”  _ with one of those kissing face emojis because she likes to do things like that. She’s sweet like that. 

So they aren’t out with the rest of the cast as they normally would be. They’re in his hotel room. 

Sebastian is leaning into his side like he had been right before they kissed for the first time, just over a month ago, their body heat meeting and spreading. Keeping their cheeks flushed and bodies warm enough to not need a blanket or for them to touch the thermostat. He’s changed from the clothes he wore during the day. Trading his jeans for sweatpants and his paper thin, elegantly fitted shirt worn under his current favorite jacket for an old t-shirt that’s not thin for the fashion statement but from wear. Comfy and domestic. His feet are even bare because that’s how relaxed they are. He’s in much the same casual shape except he’s got on gym shorts rather than sweatpants, he runs too hot for them. 

There’s one of the hotel’s  _ on demand  _ movies playing and Chris is staring at the TV but he’s not watching it. He’s listening to Sebastian’s calm, deep breathing and if not for the random little shifts of his weight Chris could easily be convinced that he is just asleep. His head has slipped down to be pillowed on his shoulder, his eyes are also on the TV. 

“Seb?” Chris whispers, still caught up in the ease of the moment, they both could be asleep with how quiet it is, it feels almost like they’re in their own little bubble of a world where everything is gorgeous and nothing hurts. Nothing can reach him. 

“Hmmmmm?” Sebastian sleepily hums, turning his head up and blinking slowly at him. Chris’ mouth dries. He’s the most stunning person Chris has ever seen, even when he’s stripped down to nothing but well loved and well worn clothes, messy hair, and not a lick of makeup over his face to smooth his already picture-perfect complexion. He’s not showered, he’ll do that in the morning, but as the day has worn long the product he puts in it has worn thin, freeing his hair to do as it wants. Curling as much as it can while it’s as short as it is, messily falling down over his forehead in lazy half formed waves. His eyes are soft because he’s tired and just letting his face rest rather than being formed around one of those little smirks, his lips naturally curling at the corners, ensuring that any candid shot of him will look good. His lips are red and, as always, sort of swollen. He’s beautiful. 

Chris forgets what he was going to say. 

The younger man’s lips curl into an amused smirk, playful as a kitten, “Chris?” 

He ducks his head, breathing in Sebastian and nudging his face a little with his nose, getting him to stretch the last little bit that puts him at the perfect angle to kiss. He presses his lips against Sebastian’s. Smiling into the chaste kiss not for any other reason than that’s what feels right. He feels the smallest puff of air against his face right before one of Sebastian’s hands comes up to toy with his beard, no doubt laughing at him for being so easily distracted. He doesn’t care. 

Not when Sebastian’s so sweet against him, when his lips, despite having been chewed on all day, are so soft and easily yielding. 

He pulls back, only separating their faces by the tiniest margin, not wanting to go far,  _ “are you watching this?” _ Chris breaths, barely above a whisper, their lips brushing together as he speaks. Intimate and sweet. Their breathing syncing and coming from the same air. 

“No.” Chris kisses him, forgivably interrupting him, “are you?” He asks just as quiet. He shakes his head, lacing their fingers where his lie over his cheek because he can’t help himself. His other hand that was resting over Sebastian’s shoulder curls around his back, holding him. 

He always wants to touch more, to feel more. He could have all of Sebastian in the palm of his hand and he would still curl his fingers into to give him shelter and bring his hand to his chest, over his heart, just because they could always be closer. 

Anything else that should or might be said gets washed away. The tide of intimacy pushing their raft along downstream, their lips staying locked together for longer and longer amounts of time. Gasps of air become rarer as the sweet burn of oxygen deprivation becomes a familiar feeling, painting the insides of their lungs with its call. 

With their lips keeping each other company, the sounds of their kissing growing loud and more insistent, Chris moves Sebastian’s hand at his cheek to the side of his neck, running his fingers over the back of his hand and down his forearm as he slips his own hand away to do the same the Sebastian’s face. Holding his cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand, guiding him with his hands and lips, getting him where he wants him. He moves his other hand to mirror the first. The sparks that were swimming through his heart begin to slip into his blood, running into his veins. Reaching other parts of him and heating the rest of his body. 

Sebastian is on the same page, reading the same line because his mouth falls open just a little more, one of those quiet, back-of-the-throat noises slipping out of his mouth- sliding right into Chris’. He shivers and pulls Sebastian even closer. 

Pulling back just enough to nuzzle his cheek into Sebastian’s, enjoying the contrast of his own beard and Sebastian’s slight stubble much more than he thought he could,  _ “c’mere,” _ he murmurs. Getting his hand from his cheek to the junction between his neck and shoulder. Cupping the warm skin and obscenely soft fabric of his old t-shirt. 

Sebastian huffs softly against his lips when he turns to catch his lips again but he obeys. Shifting and scooting closer until Chris gives up on trying to just outright say,  _ no, closer, I want you to sit in my lap so I can feel all of you against all of me,  _ and half picks him up and half slides him closer. Getting him in his lap like he’s been dying to. 

_ “Oh,” _ Seb offers, Chris grins like a loon as he whispers against his mouth. Sebastian is grinning just as helplessly into another kiss. His long, pretty fingers dance up from his shoulders to the base of his skull, carding his fingers through the short but slightly grown out hair there, one of them staying at the nape of his neck. It feels good. Chris’ hands move as well, having minds of their own. His left finding its way to the small of his back and his right quickly moves beyond cupping his jaw to pushing through his hair, messing it up even more before it just settles back at his cheek. Sebastian moves into the touch like a recently adopted kitten, hungry for touch. Even the little sounds he makes as he does it matches that thought. 

Chris' heart is going to beat out of his chest from all the adoration he feels for Sebastian or it's going to melt from the heat building inside of him. He doesn't know which is going to happen first. 

He can feel Sebastian’s weight pressing down onto him, innocent as ever, but he can also  _ feel him. _ He's half hard in his sweatpants. The thin, warm fabric hiding nothing. Chris knows he’s in the same boat, the heat collecting in his gut can tell him that, but so can the want beginning to grow claws in his chest. Wanting out, scratching at his insides like a dog wanting to be let back outside to chase that squirrel that dared to come around. 

He pushes his hand meaningfully into Sebastian’s back, kissing him with all the weight that he dares, showing him just a taste of his hunger before backing off. “Is this okay?” He asks, pressing his hips up- not  _ bucking  _ them up like he wants to because he wants Sebastian’s hands on him, stroking him, but  _ pressing  _ them up so what he’s asking is unmistakable. 

“Yes,” Sebastian gasps into his mouth, responding with the same hunger and Chris expects that to be the end of it. He does not expect the quickly followed words of,  _ “yes, please.”  _

A groan rumbles out of him and into Sebastian’s mouth. His only thoughts are the echo of that perfect little  _ “please”  _ and the internal monologue of  _ oh my fucking god, oh my fucking god?! Are you kidding me. What the fuck. He’s so perfect. So fucking sweet too. Oh. My. God.  _

Sebastian responds easily to his groan, going along with all of this so easily that he could swear that they’ve made out for years before this, making a little “mmh” noise against his lips eagerly. Selfishly Chris wants more of those noises so he cuts quickly through his words, barely separating their lips, “if you wanna stop, if you don’t like anything- tell me.” He hears the order in his own words so he tacks on, “please. I’ll stop whatever it is. I promise.” Missing the way Sebastian represses a full body shiver at just the hinted at version of an order. He doesn’t miss the way Seb dives right back in, only giving himself a tiny bit of time to nod, letting him know he understood. 

Chris finally, finally lets his hand slip under his shirt, taking his other hand away from his face so he can get both hands on his back. Stroking down and up his back, feeling himself get harder and harder at being able to hear the noises Sebastian makes in response to being touched and kissed and at being able to feel the way his breaths get stuck in his body. Choking on sounds and exhalations. Responding wonderfully to everything he dares to try. 

Pressing his hands into his back harder than necessary makes him fall forward into their kissing, gasping a little like he wasn’t even expecting himself to respond in such a way. Biting down on his lower lip makes him moan into his mouth, causing him to stop kissing back for a good few seconds as he just absorbs the feeling. Licking into his mouth without remorse makes him lean in harder like he’s chasing it, wanting him to fuck his mouth with his tongue rather than just tease him with it. Stroking the side of his neck while they kiss makes him shiver. Carding fingers through his hair makes him tilt his head back into it like a cat chasing pets. Every little thing has a reaction and every little thing is building them both higher. 

Chris can feel him swelling, getting harder and hotter with every new feeling and resulting sound. He’s started sweating a little too. His own cock feels impossibly hard considering the short amount of time that they’ve been doing this. Trapped in his underwear and shorts and aching to be let free. He can imagine exactly how Sebastian feels, although, if his sounds are anything to go by- he’s probably even harder than he is right now. 

Sebastian takes a moment to pull back and presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth, audibly panting with the effort of catching his breath. His mouth hanging open slightly- it's the most inviting sight he's ever seen. 

His lips are even more swollen and arousal thick as honey drips down to his cock, making him twitch in his shorts while his heart thumps faster in his chest. Sebastian moans and bucks his hips down into the feeling. Chris feels like he's on the tallest mountain in the world, dizzy with want and desire that might as well be altitude sickness. He mirrors Sebastian and adds his own flare. Pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth and then biting down on his lower lip, pulling away for a moment, just to be a tease. Letting it bounce back into place as he releases it from his teeth. Flicking his eyes open again to stare Sebastian down, unable to look away. 

They pause, both panting and  _ staring.  _

Then, Chris kisses him, going right in with his tongue pretty much first thing, getting comfortable with knowing what he likes and what he doesn't, using one of his hands on the back of his neck to keep Sebastian close. Putting every little spark of heat he’s feeling into the action. Listening to the wet sounds of their mouths sliding against one another with burning ears and a throbbing erection. Seb doesn’t help by moaning and grabbing at his shirt collar like he’s trying to stay up right despite the fact that they’re both sitting down. Grinding down again. 

Chris moans and chokes, "jesus." 

Sebastian giggles wildly, happy and rapidly losing his inhibitions. 

It's the best look Chris has seen on him honest and open. His cheeks, really his whole face, flushed and his eyes blown dark and huge. Lips red enough that it might be, to an outsider, lipstick if not for the shimmer of messy saliva glossing their surface. Some of his jaw and chin are also blushing red from beard burn. Something inside of Chris' chest burns hotter, urging him to growl and make his lips tint redder and swell more or to make that not yet full blown beard burn into complete beard burn that they'd have to cover with makeup for press tomorrow if it wasn't Friday. 

They go back to kissing. 

He’s not sure if his lungs are begging for more attention then his cock but they both are in need. He needs air and he needs some fucking friction.

Sebastian reads his mind. Grinding down into his lap and either moaning from the friction or from feeling him under him, throwing his head back with whatever of the culprits he's reacting to. Chris isn't a mind reader unfortunately; he just knows that it feels fucking heavenly. 

So heavenly that he can't take just  _ this  _ anymore, even if it is phenomenal. 

“How about this?” Chris rasps, nipping Sebastian’s tipped back jaw, eagerly enjoying the newfound space to play, his hand hovering over the waistband of his sweats while the other stays parked on the small of his back under his shirt. Toying with the fabric a little, so close to the tent he's pitching in his sweats but far enough that hopefully if he’s not comfortable with this he'll still feel okay about the rest of it. 

_ "Oh my god, please!"  _ Sebastian fucking  _ whines, _ bringing his head back forward so Chris can see the desperation clinging to his blue-grey eyes for just a moment, but instead of going back to kissing him with those swollen, spit-slick, entrancing lips he tucks his head into the hollow of his throat and shoulder. Burying his face and bucking his hips like Chris needs more of an incentive to touch him. Chris feels every needy exhale, hot air rushing over his skin and making him shiver. His cock throbbing even more. The skin of his throat feels extra thin and sensitive as Sebastian lives there. 

He shoves his hand into his pants.

_ "Fuck,  _ Sebastian, you-" he cuts himself off with a drawn out groan, hoping he understands the sound that's been punched from his chest. His hand curling instinctually around the solid, hot, pulsing weight of him. 

_ He's not wearing any underwear.  _

He's just in sweatpants and his shirt. Nothing else.

Chris would make sure he was wearing nothing at all if his primal instincts weren't just screaming at him to get fucking going. Faster and faster and faster. He wants to  _ see _ Sebastian cum. He wants to  _ hear _ him cum. He wants to  _ feel _ him cum. He just fucking wants to make Sebastian feel good with his own hands. He does. So badly. His fist curls a little tighter and Sebastian chokes on what sounds like would've been a wail. His own cock throbs, feeling needy and painfully ignored. 

"You're something else," Chris hears himself saying, his voice low but praising. Sebastian keens, muffling himself by pressing his lips to his pulse point. Giving him sloppy, open mouth kisses that light him on fucking fire as he shifts forward into his hand in a move that's not coordinated enough to be called a thrust or grind- he's just looking for more pleasure. Blindly. Not thinking about anything else but  _ more  _ as he laps at and kisses his neck. 

_ If this is what he gets for just the punishment of going to hell for being creepy… he can deal with it.  _

Hot shivers break out all over his body, making him feel a bit like he's running a fever and hallucinating this entire thing. His vision is hazy anyway because he can't really keep his eyes open, plus, it's not like there's a lot of blood flowing towards his head anyway. 

Except- he  _ can't _ be hallucinating because he can  _ feel _ Sebastian’s limp weight against him, draped over him like melted sugar and pressing him harder into the couch then what just his own weight would do. He can feel his hot, damp labored breaths washing over his skin in a way that shouldn't be as erotic as it is. And he can feel him in his palm so intensely. So clearly. Hot and heavy and velvety. Skin smooth and soft even as he's hard, engorged with blood in the easiest to read sign of his arousal. Wet at the tip as he leaks more and more pre-cum but damp with sweaty heat everywhere else. 

It's not as panic inducing as he figured it might be to touch another man's dick. It's not even worrying, it's just natural. Strangely natural but who fucking knows, it might just be natural because it’s Sebastian and everything feels natural with Sebastian. Or maybe he's been  _ daydreaming  _ too much about it for it to be weird. Or maybe he's watched a little too many  _ adult  _ movies where one the actor resembled the glorious man in his lap as much as possible. It's not frightening, a **little** strange because it is his first time but... it's… it's something. It's a new feeling for sure. But? Maybe what’s saving him is that he knows what he likes and what feels good being done to his own cock? Like he sort of knows what to do instinctually because he's gotten himself off so many times and it's not like being with a woman and knowing in theory what feels good from other people telling slash directing him or the reactions he pulls from them without ever having actually experienced it. This he has experienced. 

He knows what it feels like when someone runs their fingers or, _god,_ their tongue over the more prominent veins in his cock. Lighting his blood on fire and making his skin feel like it’s paper thin in the best way possible. So he does that. Sebastian practically _mewls,_ sucking in some quick breaths when he keeps touching him like that that would probably be those fucked out _"ah, ah, ah"_ s that porn stars make when being fucked but _real_ if he had enough air to make those noises a little louder. It makes his head spin. His _baby_ is so _responsive. So pretty. So everything._

He knows what it feels like when you don't have lube and there’s this biting friction that can feel sort of good if you like that kind of sensation but doesn’t always even if you do like it because sometimes it just feels like your skin is being rubbed raw, chafed and tender in the wrong ways. And Sebastian is so seemingly sensitive that… well, he figures it probably doesn’t feel too, too good without lube. He did pack some. But there's not a fucking chance in hell that he's going to get up and walk all the way over to the bedroom and then dig through his suitcase and have to walk back over and re-situate them to get it. He's not going to waste  _ this.  _ So he takes his hand out of Sebastian’s sweats, listening to his protesting whimpers and clenching his jaw  _ hard  _ to stick to his guns rather than to fold like a house of cards. He doesn’t say anything, brings the other up to pet down his spine in a hopefully calming manner, then he spits in his palm. 

Sebastian makes a little breathy cry at it and shifts, trying to rub off against himself or anything in the immediate vicinity- he files the reaction away for later. 

He strokes his hand, now slick with his own spit up at down Sebastian's cock. Feeling the weight and length and thickness of it even more than before. Painting a picture of what it must look like in his mind because he can’t really see what he’s doing all that well when he’s curled up in his lap like he is.  _ It's a good cock,  _ he thinks, and he wants to laugh at himself because never in his life as someone who thought they were completely straight did he assume he'd think anything like that. Even if it is true; inherently true too, it’s a part of Sebastian and therefore it’s good. 

But, he did think it, and he knows that he can  _ do  _ as well as  _ think.  _

So he stops playing. Stops stroking the pulsing veins on his shaft and instead wraps his hand around him more securely. He strokes him without any tricks or fancy shit for a couple of moments, then he peels Sebastian's sweats away with his other hand because they're getting in the way and twists his wrist on the upstroke when that’s done, waiting for him to respond to the feeling. A low sound rumbling in his chest when Sebastian twitches up into his fist like he can't not move into it and moans and  _ sucks  _ at his throat. Not just kissing to licking at him. He's so hot and bothered by the reaction that it doesn't even cross his mind that he'll have marks after this. He doesn’t care about that right now. Fuck it. He just encourages it. Fucking his fist down as soon as he gets to the tip of his cock and twisting as he comes back up. Squeezing him a touch harder as he does it. Just to see what happens. 

Sebastian's mouth falls lax against his throat and his hands that were fisted in his shirt loosen, just for a second, like he’s been shocked; the faintest whimper of,  _ "more"  _ works its way from his mouth at the same time. 

Chris is helpless to not do as he so sweetly asked. 

Jerking him off, keeping the twist on the upstroke but tightening his hold for every downstroke because those two things together make the best sounds fall from his lips and keep his fingers continually biting into his chest. His breath punching from his chest right along with every mouth watering sound he makes. Chris is fairly certain he could cum in seconds just from listening to Sebastian. Having him laying out on top of him in the way he is just makes him feel that if he even moves a hair up into Seb that he'll lose it. There’s more than enough pleasure clouding all of his senses for him to cum right then and there, even without having any attention directly paid to his cock. 

He’s always gotten off the hardest on making sure his partners are having the best time they can but this, this is different. It feels different. 

Pleasing Sebastian gives him some kind of hot, desperate need. Not to even get off. He just wants to get him off. He wants to make sure Sebastian is good and taken care of. 

Sebastian who’s still twitching into his grip with the sweetest, most uncontrolled movement, unable to stop himself from chasing the feelings he’s swimming in. Mouthing at his neck the whole time. Breathing hot and heavy and gasping or moaning or whimpering seemingly constantly. For a second Chris wonders what his face must look like as he’s making those sounds but then he’s  _ really  _ on the edge. So he gets back to thinking just about pleasing him, spoon-feeding him his pleasure. Listening to the hitches of his breath and decoding what made those happen just so he can do it again and again. Feeling for what has his hips bucking up without his permission so he knows what makes him lose control. Doing everything he can. 

Sebastian whines at some point, the noise spreading over his skin and sinking in, and then he sucks extra hard at his neck. Chris feels it. He moans, letting his head roll back, being propped up by the back of the couch and just breathes for a second. Replaying his whine in his head because  _ goddamn.  _

_ Ah. Oh.  _

“Seb?” Chris pants, trying to find his breath and also keep himself above water at the same time that he attempts to keep his fist moving over Sebastian’s cock, to keep him feeling good. Sebastian keens into his neck and Chris swears up a storm as he feels his thighs tighten around him. A wild chuckle comes out of nowhere, shaking through him, “you gonna cum, baby?” Sebastian hiccups out a desperate noise, just barely sounding like a sob, as he nods. Thighs squeezing at his waist harder, showing off all that time well spent in the gym and his noises get just a  _ little  _ higher. Sounding a touch more feminine and making something inside him  _ snap. _

As much as he is fucking enjoying the shit out of jerking Sebastian off he needs to cum. 

Like now. Soon. As soon as possible. 

He takes his hand out of Sebastian’s pants for the second time that night. Sebastian whimpers again, pressing his face harder into his neck, breaking his goddamn heart at the very helpless sound and making his cock twitch in his shorts for the same reason, a growl of sorts cuts from his chest. That’s not a sound he’s ever made before and it leaves his throat feeling even more raw. He ignores it, getting both of Sebastian’s hips in his hands instead and dragging him down onto his cock. 

_ Fuck.  _

Both himself and Sebastian moan at the same time. Sebastian’s is louder and higher. He  _ aches.  _

Their throbbing cocks grind into one another as he pulls Sebastian down as he fucks his hip up. It is undoubtedly the best fucking feeling Chris has ever felt. Like,  _ seriously?  _ He’s been missing out on  _ this? _

This feels fucking perfect. Having Sebastian above him, hard and solid with his gym honed muscle, sweating and shimmering, while he’s also the most pliant and eager partner Chris has ever had, making the hottest fucking noises  _ ever  _ and then when he grinds up into him he can feel how equally effected he is.  _ Through his clothes. _ Feeling the hot, hard line of him in his sweatpants, the tip of his cock peeking out of the rucked down waistband, glistening and wet, practically purple with how desperately hard he is. 

Everything about it is unbearably hot. 

So hot that he’s not ashamed when he can only last a for a few seconds beyond Sebastian despite the fact that he’s not been fucking touched at all.

Sebastian spills as their hips collide, ruining his own sweats and Chris’ shorts without a fucking care, gasping and moaning as he does. Melting to be somehow even more boneless. His chest heaving and his lips falling lax against his throat, panting harshly and moving with the aftershocks, whimpering, curling into Chris’ body. Twitching a little under the onslaught. 

He’s never felt more like he needs to cum or he’s going to die than he does after witnessing  _ that.  _

Chris thinks just for a _ second  _ about what Seb’s face must’ve done when he orgasmed, how his eyes probably squeezed shut and his mouth fell open, and he’s crashing through his finish. Fire bleeding through him as lava pools behind his balls, in his stomach, spilling over as he ruins his underwear. Moaning breathlessly, feeling Sebastian against him, still hard because he’s only just cum. His fingers biting as hard as they can into Seb, making sure he stays right there. Listening to him pant his way through coming back down to earth but thinking of all the sweet, high sounds he’s been making through the night. 

It’s such a damn good orgasm that it leaves him shaking. It feels earth shattering. 

His lungs expand. They contract. 

Sebastian’s breathing is synced to his own. 

Sleepily he palms Sebastian’s back, smiling lazily at the way he can feel Seb’s weight rising and falling on top of his own chest, he doesn’t pay any mind to the way his shirt sticks to him with sweat, almost rubbing his back as if he’s sick and not just recovering from a hopefully just as earth shattering orgasm. His fingers find the waistband of his sweatpants and normally he’d go to tug them off of the other man but with the way they’re melting into each other it only makes sense to just tuck him back into them. 

They can deal with the mess later. 

His cheeks warm, speaking of mess- they’ve ruined each other's clothes. Sebastian doesn’t have any of his clothes in his hotel room. He’ll have to wear his clothes. Chris wants to purr. Clean up can still wait but he’s looking forward to it now. He can’t wait to see Sebastian in his clothes and he’s apparently “stronger” (according to Sebastian’s own words) which should mean that he’s bigger. Hopefully big enough to make it clear that he’s not wearing his own clothes.

Sebastian makes a little purring noise of his own, one that vibrates so intensely along Chris’ skin that he can’t help the goosebumps that appear over his skin. Raising the hair on his arms. The soft noise is punctuated by a wet noise. 

It makes Chris realize that he still had his mouth locked onto his neck.  _ Huh.  _

He bathes in the golden silence for an indeterminate amount of time, letting that discovery sit in his head with that attached  _ huh  _ like a stone dropping into an otherwise perfectly calm pond with a satisfying sploosh. He settles into his body more. Feeling not as loose and limp as he does fresh off orgasm but a lot, lot less tense than he normally does after he’s done with the afterglow. Another thing Sebastian seems to bring out of him. 

He moves enough to rest his chin on top of Sebastian’s head, his hands slowing to a stop, sleepiness tugging at his eyelids. 

The last thing on his mind as he drifts off to sleep is-  _ was that related to the candy and lip and pen and gum thing? Does he need something to do with his mouth even during sex? That’s… cute.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot sexier... how was that? They get progressively more sex based so, uhh, yeah. I don't know what to say about that besides asking for what you all thought of this chapter.


	3. Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris runs into some confusion after that Friday evening because Sebastian isn't acting in the way he assumed he would. So he develops a plan... a plan that's not just bringing it straight out like an accusation. Besides, he doesn't even know what he would be accusing Sebastian of. He just wants to know more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this isn't as angsty as it sounds! It's actually got a fuck ton of fluff in it (and a Very long sex scene), there's just a bit of actual plot here lmao

_ Chris  _

Sebastian has always been sweet. 

Always. He’s never raised his voice at  _ anyone  _ other than if he’s acting and then it’s required- and even then, he’ll trip over himself with his apologies after  _ “cut”  _ is called. He’s never complained when they’ve been working on set for well over ten hours with only a lunch break because they’re running behind schedule. He’s never - unless requested to by another person - opted to kill a spider rather than scooping it up and escorting it outside or out of sight. He’s never snapped at a fan accidentally because he’s so tirelessly sweet- not even when he does really have a migraine as induced by too bright of lights. He’s never asked to stop or take a break when a director tells him to do yet  _ another  _ take. He’s never not been relentlessly sweet when he’s being himself and not portraying a character. There’s not a not candy sweet bone in his body. 

And he may be sweeter than sugar but he’s not shy. Not usually. Usually people like Mackie or his very close friends can pull out the much louder, much more extroverted version of him before he gets nervous enough to seem shy. 

Sebastian gets shy after that Friday night. 

He’s not shy with everything. He’ll ask to be kissed without a problem when it’s just them because the blush that washes his cheeks when he asks is the exact opposite of a  _ problem. _ He’ll sit way too close to him when all the rest of the bed or chair or couch is just as available- just wanting to be next to him. He’ll steal food that neither of them are supposed to be eating, because you have to keep up moviestar shape if you wanna be a moviestar now, from his plate without asking. Smiling at him as he does. He’ll ask him for gum or mints or something before he’ll go and seek out those things on his own (which of all the things he does easily that seem intimate, for some reason that feels like the biggest deal of them all). 

He’s normal with everything but anything beyond cuddling and kissing. Which is perfectly fine. Chris  _ can _ go slow, he will go as fast or as slow as Sebastian is comfortable with, and he’d be happy to go slow because as eager as he is to discover everything wonderous about sleeping with another man he wants this to be a forever thing. Not a fling. He wants Sebastian forever, not for the length of time that they’ll get to work together for. He doesn’t want a relationship that falls apart years down the line because the only thing they have in common is being able to fuck each other like no one else can. 

And he’s not even sure if Sebastian is uncomfortable with getting to sleeping with each other or not. Obviously his shyness revolves around getting more intimate but there’s something that tells Chris in the back of his mind that it’s not the physical part even though that would make the most sense. 

Stupidly they haven’t had a conversation about this. 

Sebastian isn’t bringing it up because he’s trying to either deal with it himself it seems or he’s trying to pretend whatever he’s scared of or nervous of doesn’t exist. Chris hasn’t brought it up to him because he doesn’t want Sebastian to be uncomfortable and… surely he’ll come to him eventually? Even if it’s nothing. 

It’s a confusing situation. And to make it worse most of the time they’re both dead tired from doing press all day or from traveling all day long. In the mood to just go to one of the two rooms they have booked between the two of them and crash. Probably falling asleep for a few hours in their jeans before one of them gets up and orders room service, showers, and then wakes the other up. 

Sebastian doesn’t exactly tell him  _ no  _ when things naturally slide from being completely sweet to a half and half mix of sexy and sweet when they’re by themselves on account of wandering hands and deepening kisses, both of which come from both parties, but Chris has known him long enough to know that he might possibly want to. To tell him no. Not in the way that would imply or make Chris feel like he’s taking advantage of him, he always makes sure to ask Sebastian if what he’s doing is okay (he really doesn’t wanna screw anything up, alright?), but in the way that he gets the feeling that the idea of saying no does cross Sebastian’s mind. There and then gone. Seb can also obviously read him well enough to know that he knows of those thoughts and so he makes sure to be clear with his consent. Leaning in close and kissing him between whispered yeses, answering as soon as he can when he asks him if something is good for him, if it feels good, and making sure that when the opportunity to reciprocate that  _ I don’t want anything you don’t want  _ attitude. And it’s  _ sweet. _

There’s no other word for it. Just sweet. It’s  _ sweet  _ how  _ shy _ he seems. 

And for the next couple of weeks sneaking into each other’s hotel or dressing rooms is great fun, even though probably even more ninety-five percent of it has nothing to do with anything below the belt. Most of the time they literally just end up falling asleep more or less on top of each other. It feels like high school, sneaking away from the dance to make out under the bleachers or in the bathroom or dark corner. Like middle school even, passing notes to cute girls with nothing more than the hopes that she’d giggle and maybe, if you were extra lucky, she might kiss you while you both waited for your parents to pick you up after school. 

Besides, when it is below the belt it stops at the line of hand jobs: one of them gets jerked off while the other grinds into them, or they both jerk each other off in turn, they both grind against each other, or Chris will jerk both of them off in his hand because Sebastian’s hands aren’t big enough for it. Which is, again, great fun. It’s so fucking fun and so good. It makes Chris feel sparks of desperation every time because it really feels like they’re back to being teenagers or inexperienced twenty-somethings, just wanting to get off. 

It’s  _ good  _ when they get off together no matter what way it happens, it’s good when he gets himself off thinking about Sebastian (and then probably tells Sebastian about it later because he’ll probably ask), and it’s good when no one’s getting off. Great really. 

Everything is great but that doesn’t mean Chris isn’t curious or not still thinking about it.

Although, it’s not like that’s new or anything because when is he not thinking about Seb? 

He’s still thinking about it because Sebastian doesn’t seem like the kind of person who just takes a while to come around with sex, he willing has pushed as much innocent contact as possible with their situation. Chris is often made fun of by other people, whether they’re his partner or just friend, or being very tactile and touchy-feely but Sebastian is just as bad. Just as bad as in he’s great, great and very eager to be touched. Asking for kisses and hugs and cuddles enough that some of Chris’ appetite for touch has been sated- which is something that Mackie has actually commented on, asking him,  _ “what’s with you, baby, you’re not as clingy as usual-” _ That part had made Sebastian laugh until he doubled over, slapping a hand over his own mouth.  _ “You find something off the books, huh?” _ The second part had made Sebastian not giggle but blush until he was totally pink and arguably completely red. 

It’s a wonder, really, that they haven’t been caught yet. 

But he’s thinking about it, every role Seb has played that has required him to be nude or have some sort of sex scene has had his character as brash and confident, as most male actors have to be in those scenes because… stereotypes, in such a way that Chris thought he had been seeing at least a little of Sebastian in them. It had that specific brand of confidence that’s seen easily in his smiles and the glimpses of bedroom eyes that he uses for photoshoots. He had just thought that he would be like those characters but… less so, more of himself, as you always see bits and pieces of the actor in their character. He hadn’t ever thought Sebastian would be brash, per say, but he assumed the brashness was inflated quiet confidence that can easily be seen in his smirks and more playful moments.  _ Yeah. _ Chris thought he was playful but, like,  _ yielding.  _ Again, the description of  _ “kittenish”  _ comes up in his mind. Which he is, and Chris has seen bits of that, but that in his mind wouldn’t lead him to being shy. It was a little strange and a lot endearing.

Maybe… maybe just like Sebastian is so  _ everything  _ and so important and so natural to him there’s something different about himself to Sebastian too. 

So. he lets it ride for the remainder of the American part of their press tour. (Not that he can really do anything about it, there’s no scheduled time for them to sit down and have an honest to go heart-to-heart with each other.) Leaving them at grinding against Sebastian when they want to get off and having the most intense hands-free orgasm he’s had in his entire life or just cuddling with him until they fall asleep, fading into unconsciousness from pure exhaustion, and have to wake up way too fucking early to their alarms, someone sneaking back to their own hotel room for appearances or a change of clothes if they didn’t plan well. Which almost makes Chris feel guilty, it’s just one room that Marvel is paying for that’s not being used and they can afford it for sure, but it feels like a waste of money. 

They settle into that rhythm for two and a half more weeks and it’s the best fucking whirlwind, chaotic tempest that Chris has ever been a part of. It’s wonderful. Press doesn’t suck when it’s  _ them _ against the sea of Marvel fans and seemingly the whole world. 

But, unlike what his internal clock will tell him, press tours don’t last forever- and it’s the last day of press and they’re in NYC, doing a bunch more TV appearances, schedules strangely packed for the end of this part of the tour which usually is the most relaxed part. Chris doesn’t mind. Yesterday Sebastian and himself held hands the entire ride up to his room, not getting interrupted by anyone hoping to get into the elevator. 

Chris doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t want to go home, alone, still curious. Still thinking. He doesn’t want both for Sebastian to be shy through facetime for the eight or nine days they have off (he can’t actually remember which) and he doesn’t want Sebastian to get comfortable through just facetime. He doesn’t want to have him feeling lonely or needy but frozen and unable to reach out because clearly he loves being touched, innocent or not, and he wants to be there in person when Sebastian gets his feet under him, blooming under his fingers and not through a screen; he doesn’t want to watch through a delay the first time Seb is in his full glory. And. As fun as it is to sneak around like teenagers weary of being caught red-handed, or red-lipped if they were making out (like they usually are), he kind of also just wants to have Sebastian to himself. He’s both in and out, he wants what he has and what he doesn’t. 

He really does want to have Sebastian to himself though. 

He wants to have a week and a few days of normalcy, of just getting to be a couple who can base their relationship off of something that isn’t jet lag and delirious early morning calls. So, before he can think his way out of any of the ideas he’s got in his head- he chooses one. 

It sits on his tongue all day, tickling his throat, even making its way to his lips a few times before he swallows the words back. Locked away behind his teeth until they’ve got some privacy blanketing them. 

He ends up blurting out his idea, his wishes, as they share a delivery pizza on the balcony that Seb’s room came with, watching the quivering city lights in the darkness, “would you come back to Massachusetts with me? Rather than staying here. Between the legs of the tour I mean.” He didn’t realize how much that sounded like an invitation to move in until the second it was out of his mouth, internally he winces- not against Seb moving into his home but… it’s too fast. Like admitting that he already knows he loves him. That he has known. Thanks to the lights they had on inside his hotel room Chris can still see Sebastian, he swallows, Seb was just beginning to go for another bite. They’re  _ literally  _ in the middle of a meal.  _ Why didn’t he wait? _

Sebastian stops. His mouth is still open, he shuts it, biting his lower lip and casting more shadows over his half lit, handsome face. He puts his half eaten slide down, looking at him all the while, his lips falling back open. Panicked, Chris finds himself offering another idea, tripping over his tongue and lips, “or, or I could stay here. Here, in NYC. With you!” He adds quickly, so quickly with his haste that he interrupts the way Sebastian’s lips curl up into a pretty smile at the offer, not seeing it until after he’s spoken. 

He shuts his mouth. 

Waiting for Sebastian to say something. And hoping that he won’t say anything else that’s that reckless. 

“Okay,” Sebastian says, his smile still locked on his lips as his mouth shapes the word easily and as he picks up his pizza again. Even as he chews he’s smiling, staring back at him. 

Chris tries to swallow again and realizes his mouth is hanging open instead of having remained shut like he hoped it would.  _ Oh,  _ he thinks blankly. He also thinks-  _ maybe he does love me already?  _ Which is a stupid thing to think because he agreed to spend just over a week with him at his house and he’s had friends who’ve stayed with him for longer just because he asked if they wanted to. Yeah, he agreed very easily but-

“Chris?” 

“Hmm? You okay there?” He’s smirking, affection evident in the quirked corners of his lips. Insecurity lurking in the back of his added teasing joke, “not regretting asking  _ already, _ are you?” 

“No!” He barks, his mind reeling with everything that’s happening which really isn’t all that much. It just feels like a lot because he’s a fucking mess. “No,” he makes a considerable effort to ensure that he won’t accidentally yell again, “I- just… you.” He pauses. Takes a deep breath. Looks at the mirth shining in Sebastian’s eyes and weaved into his smile. 

“Just like that?” Is what his mouth settles on saying. 

Sebastian uses his napkin to wipe off his mouth and stands, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Resting a hand on his deck chair and putting the other on his jaw, toying with his beard like he always does, “just like that.” He repeats, kissing him once more on the cheek before pulling away, raising his voice from his whisper to a normal talking voice to ask, “do you want another beer while I’m up?” 

_ “No- I’m good,” _ he can  _ hear _ the stars circling around his own head, leaking into his voice, as if he’s just become a cartoon character that’s been hit in the head. And it’s the truth, he is good. 

Sebastian has been with him at  _ his own home  _ for a full day.

Yesterday - the day that this part of the tour had ended - they’d left the hotel at separate times because Sebastian didn’t have any interviews scheduled while Chris had one just before noon, meaning he ended up leaving around one twenty ish. Sebastian left only a few hours earlier, taking advantage of the time off by sleeping in. Plus Seb had needed to make a detour before coming, arriving at his doorstep roughly four and a half hours after Chris left NYC. Chris had just come pretty much straight home after his last interview. Sebastian told him while he got settled - settling, in this case, being just putting his suitcase in Chris’ bedroom mid house tour, but, of course that happened way after kneeling to say hello to Dodger which looked more like being attacked by him - that he’d gone to his apartment in NYC to change out what was inside of his suitcase as well as grabbing some other things that he wouldn’t bring along to a press tour but might to a vacation. Canceling the grocery delivery that was supposed to arrive the next day courtesy of his past self because he didn’t actually have any food in his apartment, getting his mail from the landlord, and some other things. Just tying up loose ends that he had intended to deal with over the short break between the legs of the tour. Some boring things that he had to do first. 

Chris told him he didn’t mind because he didn’t. All that mattered was that Sebastian was here  _ with him.  _

Those four and a half hours were also good for Chris anyway, just enough time to get back, pick up Dodger from his mom’s house, place an order for groceries in general and one for dinner, unpack, and to change the sheets on his bed. Normally he would’ve already had clean sheets because he does that right before he leaves for trips, knowing he won’t want to do it when he gets back because jet lag is the worst part of his job. However, this time he’d been too excited to jump on a plane and see Sebastian. So he had skipped that part of his routine. Dodger had had fun jumping on and off the bed while he tried to make it anyway. Getting some of his  _ oh my god oh my god oh my god ohmygod Dad is home  _ energy out.

They had dinner after a little while- heating the takeout he’d gotten which had cooled while waiting for them to be done settling in, it was two wraps from a local place that knew his order well enough that he’d gotten a teasing, disbelieving change in tone when he asked to put another  _ different _ meal onto his order in addition to his usual. But he couldn’t actually care about the teasing because the place was pretty much the only completely vegan restaurant that had food that wasn’t only salads. Come to think of it… they might not even have salads on their menu? He hasn’t checked in what seems like years. 

So, they ate, and it hadn’t been super late when Sebastian finally made it over but it wasn’t like midafternoon either, so the only other activities they managed was a quick walk for Dodger and some TV. They went to bed early despite waking up later than usual. And in the morning they walked Dodger together again, then Chris made some omelets while Sebastian showered. He showered after they ate, leaving Seb to his own devices, giving him the whole  _ what’s mine is yours  _ spiel because he wants him to feel welcome in his home. He did not assume saying that would make him wash the dishes as he showered but… it did. The rest of the day was just hanging out. They didn’t want to bother going out, even if Chris had thought about how fun it would be to show off his city to Sebastian. Or how fun it would be to go over to his mom’s for a little. Or anything like that. Nothing fancy.

Chris wanted to save the fancy shit for dinner. 

“Seb?” Chris mourns speaking when it makes Sebastian move, and not in the heart burstingly cute way he was before when Dodger jumped up because he decided he needed to lay on top of him, nuzzling forward into his chest to get back to dozing. This time he’s opening his eyes for a second, letting them close, then opening them again- fighting against his late afternoon nap. It’s very cute, don’t get him wrong, it’s just that he’s not getting closer to him like before. He’s lifting his head as a way of winning the battle, humming a little to let him know that he heard him. Sebastian props himself up on one elbow, using the other hand to scrub the sleepiness from his eyes; effectively taking his head from his chest and leaving Chris yearning for the warmth of him back already, even though pretty much the rest of their bodies are still pressed together. They’ve been lounging back on the couch, Chris on his back, Sebastian laying on his chest, his lower body between Chris’ legs. 

It’s only four thirty but Chris has a plan, “you feel like going on a secret mission for me?” This time when Sebastian shuts his eyes, it’s not out of tiredness, it’s out of  _ oh my god I’m dating a dork.  _ Laughter twisting his features adorably. 

“Sure,” he agrees, his voice dipping into the sleep-gruff register that has yet to not make Chris’ lungs quit working. 

“Might have to wake up a little more before,” Chris teases him. Sebastian lets his head thunk down onto his chest in subtle revenge. “Oof.” He chuckles, pushing his fingers through Sebastian’s hair because it’s right there and he’ll mess with it anyway before he leaves the house so he might as well mess it up first. A soft, low noise melts out of him. His breath spilling over his chest, making the hair on his arms stand on end. 

“What’s the mission?” Sebastian asks, sounds miles more awake with the curiosity leaking into his voice. 

“You’ll like it,” he contorts himself enough so he can kiss the top of his head and adds, “if you can get up.” 

“Hey.” He whines. 

“You’ve been sleepin’ all day, baby.” The rush of endorphins through his brain are echoed by the little hitch of Sebastian’s otherwise completely steady breathing. His toes and fingertips agree with them both, sparkling with the endearment. Baby is good. It’s a good thing to call Sebastian; the right thing. 

Sebastian props himself back up with a dramatic huff, pretending that it takes momentous effort to pull himself back into a sort of sitting position. But he’s smiling. So the effect of it is severely damaged- or it is until his smile melts into a pout, “but you keep cuddling me and you’re so warm.” Chris knows his eyes are locked on his pretty lips, Sebastian knows it too, Dodger and the couch they're laying on probably even know it. 

Chris kisses him, “you like cuddling.” He tries to pout too- he’s pretty sure he just ends up smiling and trying not to instead though. 

“I do,” Seb leans forward, pecking his lips quickly, staying in close as he whispers, “but it makes me tired. And I already  _ was  _ tired from doing all that press sooo, it’s kinda your fault, y’know?” 

Chris feels his facial hair brush against Sebastian’s smooth face as his lips pull into another smile, he noses Sebastian’s cheek, “my fault, huh?” He hushes into Sebastian’s skin, failing to hide his adoration that’s quickly thickening to completely fill the atmosphere of air shared between them. Sebastian makes a little  _ uh-huh  _ noise, nodding into another brush of lips that’s a little too lazy to be a kiss but is something regardless. “Well I guess I’ll not indulge you so much then. No cuddling until at least after five pm. Or maybe until we get into bed?” 

Another small noise bubbles up from Sebastian, melding easily into giggles, “you- you wouldn’t!” He manages between the swells of laughter. 

He raises an eyebrow, teasing, “I might.” Sebastian’s eyes get even rounder and wider as he stares at him, using his gorgeous eyelashes to his advantage, making the purest version of  _ puppy dog eyes  _ that Chris has ever seen. He groans. And kisses him again, telling him against his lips, “you gonna accept my mission or no?” 

He tones down the puppy dog eyes, “yeah,” he breathes. 

“You’re gonna go get us some wine.” Sebastian looks at him, his eyebrows coming together cutely with his confusion, “I have beer and whiskey and those are not what I want for  _ my  _ secret mission. I’ll text you the type of white wine that I want you to pick up, Sauvignon Blanc, because there’s no way anyone actually can spell or remember that-” Sebastian chuckles, “but you should also get a bottle of red.” His lips part and Chris can see the question that’s on the tip of his tongue, “I don’t care what kind of red you get, I don’t know anything about red wine ‘cause it’s not usually what I drink. Get something you like, okay?” 

“Red and-?” Sebastian prompts. 

“Sauvignon Blanc.” 

“Sav-Sauvignon Blanc,” Sebastian repeats, already getting up off of him, sparing one more kiss to his lips as he does. He stops. Half turning around, “where should I go?” He pauses, tilts his head, “should I call an uber?” 

Chris laughs because he can’t help himself, feeling the bubbles of feelings in his chest burst, flooding him with washes of feelings that were contained inside of them. Joy big and boastful filling his chest, “I’ll send you an address, the closest, like, place that you probably won’t get papped at. I’ve never been papped there at least. And, just take my car.” Sebastian looks at him, clearly shocked. Chris can’t help himself, “you do have a license, yeah?” 

“Yeah. I do.” 

“Okay,” he shrugs, flipping onto his side, getting his arm under himself so he can prop his head up, “take my car then, I trust that you won’t crash it.” 

Sebastian’s smile is the best thing Chris has ever seen. 

Chris nearly has a heart attack, gasping and almost dropping the wine glasses he has in an effort to grab his own chest and feel exactly how hard his heart is beating when Dodger decides he needs to start barking and bolts for the door. His pulse is pounding and his chest empties of dread so quickly that laughter bubbles from his stomach, which was previously filled with nothing but pure startled terror. He always sort of forgets how jarring it is to have a dog around that will just suddenly start barking. Dodger isn’t the worst with barking, usually he would rather go and silently pursue whatever has piqued his interest but when it comes to the doorbell, knocking, or people coming into the house he goes nuts. 

_ Sebastian,  _ Chris thinks, the voice in his head saying it in such a way that it’s not hard to imagine if he were to look in the mirror he has hanging in the entryway that there would be little cartoon hearts circling his head. Dizzy with love. 

He’s easily distracted from the idea of having little hearts orbiting his head by the distinctive smooth tones of Sebastian’s voice from the front door, taking on a higher pitch that means he’s definitely fussing over Dodger, kneeling down to pet him if the dull but heavy sounds are those of him setting down the two bottles of wine that his quest had been specifically for. Chris takes the couple of steps that he needs to to get close enough to the dining table to set down the glasses. One for Sebastian and one for himself. Silverware is already set out as are plates and napkins. The only missing things are the wine and actual food- the sides will take a lot longer because of the lower temperature he’s got them going at, so he’s prepped and put them in the oven already, but he has yet to even start cooking the main part of their meal. 

And… besides, he kind of wants Sebastian to be able to watch him cook because…  _ well,  _ it’s not like you can’t be in a relationship if neither of you can cook but- it is good to be able to show off a little.  _ Sue him.  _ He wants to make sure Sebastian knows that he can take care of him. He  _ can _ cook (he knows Seb can’t really), he  _ likes  _ to cook.

“Smells good.” 

Chris spins feeling the smile on his face stretch beyond contentment to full blown adoration, “thanks,” he breathes. Staring at Seb, taking him in like he’s been gone for weeks and not just over an hour. “Did you score on the wine?” He asks, not quite bothered over the actual answer but instead wanting to keep staring at him with an excuse. He dressed up enough to be considered a normal human (and not to be embarrassed if the paparazzi did manage to find him) rather than a hermit that sleeps on the couch all day- a very,  _ very  _ cute hermit at that. 

He hums, lifting the bottle he has in each hand as if that’s proof, setting them down on the table so he can scratch Dodger’s head. His gorgeous, lean, long legs are clad in some classic black jeans, slim fit because that’s the only way Sebastian wears his jeans unless he’s wearing something that’s for a costume or is forced to do something different on account of a stylist. He’s wearing the same shirt he changed into after he showered. A regular v-neck shirt that is a sin simply because it’s hitting the perfect spot between being stupidly low (even if something like that would look great on him because he’s  _ that  _ handsome and magic) and being at a reasonable depth, like maybe he’s tugged on the collar one too many times, making it stretch out over time. It’s sheer enough to add to that idea. Like he’s worn it too much; loved it for too long. 

“I got the… the Sauv- stuff.” Chris can’t help himself from chuckling, his attention slipping from Sebastian’s choice of clothes to his face as he chances a look up. He’s blushing. Chris wants to either melt into the floor or to walk over to him, get into his personal space, and to get his face into his hands. To feel that gorgeous flush on his palms  and to maybe make it burn hotter too.  “I just showed the. The, uhh, employee working there, y’know?” He’s blushing even harder. Chris wants to kiss the fuck out of him as if he’s done something marvelous instead of just completing a normal request. 

He licks his lips to bring himself back down closer to earth, “yeah.” 

“Yeah. I just showed her what you texted me.” Chris hums, reveling in the duck of Sebastian’s head against his approving noise. He goes back to petting Dodger, scratching behind his ear and grinning happily at the way it makes him look straight up at him, chasing more scratches. He motions to the other wine bottle, a red wine like Chris suggested, “I got that one too, she, uhh, the employee I talked to, she suggested… I think it’s called  Sunstruck Sweet Red Wine? She told me it was from California and said it tasted nice.” He shrugs. Chris can read the fine print just fine, Sebastian got it because it sounded like something he would like and is from California- where he spends the other half of his time. Where his other house is. 

“Good job,” spills out of Chris’ lips as he envelops Seb in a hug. He doesn’t know why he says it, he could have just as easily thanked him but it’s the first thing out of his mouth. The only thing on the front of his mind. Just as easily he finds himself stepping into his space before he can even think about it, kissing him and then wrapping him into a hug. 

Chris feels the burn of his flushed cheek against his neck when he pulls him closer. The heat sinks into his skin, imprinting on him like a tattoo, but with ink that sparkles and shimmers rather than aching. 

“What’re we having anyway?” Sebastian asks, trailing behind him from the kitchen to the deck where the grill is stationed. Already cleaned, heated up, and ready to go. 

Sunshine burns through his veins, warming his skin and pulling his lips into a smile, bubbling over with laughter, he lifts the plate he’s carrying up a little higher. It’s not like he can’t see what they’re having, “salmon.” 

Sebastian huffs as he tries to stifle his laughter. “I know that. But? Just salmon and wine?” 

He sets the salmon skin-side down onto the grill, grabbing the bowl of sauce he made when Sebastian was out purchasing their wine and set aside with the tongs and other grilling tools. Spreading some of it generously over the exposed topside of the fillets. He can hear his Dad in his head,  _ if it’s good meat, you shouldn’t ruin it with sauce.  _ Of all the things for your parents to be wrong about, Chris is glad it was mostly in their taste with cooking and not, like,  _ don’t follow your dreams _ or something equally important. 

“And the oven is on?” Sebastian sounds like a human version of a lost puppy. It’s fantastically adorable. 

“Yeah,” he spins around, looking over at his humanized lost puppy, “it is.” 

Being the sweetest person on the fucking planet, as always, Sebastian doesn’t question him. He senses that it’s supposed to be a little bit of a surprise and instead just rolls his eyes. Taking in his backyard, making big sweeps with his head and eyes as he looks around. Following as Dodger does a couple of lazy laps around the pool as he asks, “can I do anything?” 

“Nope,” he tells him, making his voice as cheery as he possibly can. Even though he forgot the lemon slices in the fridge that he cut up specifically so he could grill them on top of the fish as it cooks to enhance the lemon garlic sauce he already spread over it. He stops to pull Sebastian into his side, looping his arm around his waist and tugging him in, kissing him on the cheek with an obnoxious noise. Sebastian playfully slaps a hand back at his chest- but he leans into the hold and shuts his eyes, so he doesn’t take it to heart.

“Actually,” Chris says, staring down at the salmon as if hypnotized, “you could open the wine now and pour us a glass-” he offers, Sebastian is already stepping back into the house before he can finish his sentence “-if you want to.” He laughs to himself. 

Raising his voice enough that Seb should be able to hear him inside, “then sit down! I’m almost done!” Sebastian groans. “It won’t be long, I promise!” Not having as much fun not doing anything as Chris is having watching him do nothing. If he was laughing before he’s then cackling now. At least he knows what was in the oven now, he just took them out to cool a few minutes ago.

And it doesn’t take him long at all. 

It’s literal seconds before he forks his own fillet and decides that it’s done, not too dense that it doesn’t crack or flake at all but not too flakey as to mean it’s overcooked. Carefully hefting the pieces of salmon back onto their plates, distributing the nearly forgotten lemon slices between them. Turning off the grill and shutting the lid, putting the plate that the raw salmon had sat on as well as the tools he used on top so if Dodger gets let back out before he comes and gets it he won’t be able to reach it. Speaking of Dodger- he calls him to come in.

Sebastian is sitting at the table, circling his fingers atop the wine glass in front of him, his own glass a little more empty than the one sitting across from him. Chris grins. He knows Sebastian likes red wine the best but it’s pretty clear that he’ll drink any kind of wine a lot sooner than he’ll drink beer. Not to say he doesn’t like beer, he just likes wine when he wants something alcoholic but not something that will turn him to mush like tequila or bourbon (or straight fucking vodka if he’s getting serious about wanting to party). Beer is at the bottom of his list but the list is composed of alcohol and Seb loves his alcohol. 

Wordlessly he turns and focuses himself not on the fact that Sebastian is sitting in his dining room, waiting for him to bring him his food, but on the task at hand. Plating their food. 

“Lemon garlic grilled salmon with assorted roasted vegetables,” Chris announces, walking up behind Sebastian, miming being a super fancy waiter because he can’t help himself. Setting down the plate in front of him as soon as he takes his wine glass away from his lips, swallowing down his sip of wine. 

_ “Chris!” _ Sebastian looks up, following him as he crosses to the other side of the table and sits. 

“Yeah?” He chuckles, looking right back at him. The surprise over his face is heavily, heavily evident. Painting his features in softness that’s so fucking pretty Chris feels like he’s trying to stare into the sun; doing something he knows he shouldn’t but can’t help himself from doing. Blinding himself with Seb’s pretty face. 

His mouth is hanging open a little. He keeps staring. 

“What?” He asks, forking some of the roasted veggies, gathering a couple carrots and a brussel sprout in one bite. He lifts the fork to his mouth. Chewing and swallowing while Sebastian gathers himself.

“You- you…” Sebastian is practically  _ squeaking _ and it’s the most fucking adorably charming thing Chris has ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on- not to even mention the blush staining his cheeks. “You didn’t have to!” Is what he lands on after floundering for a couple more moments. Chris swallows the bite of salmon he was chewing, chasing it with a sip of wine that according to google tasted the best with salmon. Google - as per usual - was right. 

He shrugs, “but I wanted to,” he says, speaking a bit too earnestly. Wearing his heart on his sleeve and in his voice too apparently. Then. Again, words spill out of his mouth before he can process them. He’s got no idea where they come from, just that they’re meant just for Sebastian and do  _ something  _ to him, “eat. Tell me what you think.”

He doesn’t know where the question marks for his inflection have gone. But he does know that Sebastian takes a bite of the salmon like it’s his fucking only mission in life. 

He makes another one of those tiny sounds in the back of his throat so Chris isn’t worried about what he’s going to say. Between the noise and the look on his face he can already tell that Sebastian likes it. “Why are you good at everything?” He asks, tilting his head to the side like he’s seriously asking the question and actually  _ whining  _ a little. 

_ So this is how it is?  _ Chris thinks,  _ death by Sebastian.  _

“Try the wine with the salmon,” he means to  _ ask  _ but it comes out in the absence of a questioning tone again. He feels a little bit like whining at whatever the fuck inside of his head is making him do that. 

Sebastian does as he doesn’t ask yet again. Taking to it like a fish to water. 

His eyes blow wide like he’s tasting the wine for the first time and not the sixth or seventh,  _ “oh my god.” _ He whispers after swallowing. Making Chris severely regret the swallow of wine he just took himself as he nearly spits it back up but through his nose instead of his mouth because he was not expecting that to be his reaction. Fucking Sebastian. The kid is the best. 

“Gimme your plate and glass,” Sebastian does as he asks, once again, glancing up at him from where he’s still sitting in the dining chair that had been across his own with a clear question in his eyes. “You can do the dishes later,  _ if you want to.”  _ His eyes say he definitely wants to do that- he still wants to be helpful even though he clearly is enjoying being wined and dined. Chris nearly falls over his own feet at how clear the answer is in his eyes, so earnest with everything when he’s stripped down to just himself. No fancy lighting, no makeup, no directors, nothing but Sebastian himself. 

Another question surfaces in his storm grey eyes as their hands brush. His plate, holding his napkin and silverware too, being handed over right after his glass is. 

“Dessert,” Chris responds to his nonverbal query, “I just wanted to get this,” he lifts their stacked plates, “out of the way first,” grinning over his shoulder, teasing, pausing a few steps away from him, _ “I’m not gonna wash them.” _

Sebastian’s lips curl into a smitten little smile at his words. He doesn’t immediately respond, leaving them in well fitted silence which Chris takes as his cue to continue walking back to the kitchen. Then, softly, from over his shoulder he hears,  _ “dessert.” _ The word is soft on Sebastian’s lips, quiet under his breath, like he’s talking to himself. Sounding disbelieving and sweeter than sugar itself- Chris can picture how he’s shaking his head and mouthing the word to the table. 

“You got a problem with dessert?” He sasses, raising his voice enough for Sebastian to know that he heard him, making his way into the kitchen with their dirty dishes. Throwing the words over his shoulder and thanking his past self for buying a place with such an open kitchen, dining and outdoor entertaining space. It makes it a lot easier to talk without being in the same air, face to face- although,  _ no,  _ Chris shakes away most of his thoughts about Sebastian’s gorgeous face. 

“No,” Sebastian says, sounding honest but with the smirk on his lips painting his words as well as his face. He breaks into a soft fit of laughter, making Chris smile wildly and dorkily at his kitchen appliances, humming under his breath when his laughter doesn’t take up that extra air. Sebastian explains his own laughter away with bright, happy, and sweetly timid words- “I, I just feel like you’re trying really hard to get laid or something? I’ve never been wined and dined so hard.” 

His playful words hit back directly on the curiosity revolving around his shyness with full blown sex. It strikes the chord of those thoughts within him, making his skin vibrate with it. It’s like there’s a hammer coming down on top of him. 

He evades the heaviest parts of it, burying the questions that want to pour from his lips with the more appropriate, less invasive ones that also go with this line of conversation. Lacing them with as much sarcasm as he can muster up, “if you think  _ this _ is trying hard then I have something to say about your dating experience.” 

“Is that a promise?” Sebastian asks. He sounds closer. Chris looks up from rinsing their plates and glasses, letting the pleasantly warm water kiss and pour over his hands interrupted for a moment. Freezing in time to watch Sebastian, who has turned around in his chair and is now gazing at him. Those eyes turning into nothing but honest, open, and reflective pools once again- begging Chris to take a dip. 

He hums rather than actually answering and ruining the suspense of what he might or might not say. Tearing his eyes away and morosely looking down at the dishes rather than his pretty face. 

He reaches to turn the water off, aware of the fact that Sebastian is still looking at him, watching him- studying him. He hasn’t heard him turn around so he must be. But even without that audible clue… Chris feels it. He can feel his eyes pouring over him, much like the tap was. Warming and coaxing, lapping at his skin invitingly, raising goosebumps. It doesn’t feel like that staring that evokes the innate fear of being watched feeling inside of him. 

Leaving the plates, forks, and knives to their shared lonesome he plucks the wine glasses from the sink. Drying them quickly with the dish towel so he can get to refilling them. With the red wine Sebastian bought because he likes- or because he  _ thought  _ he would like it. Just reaching for it and rescuing it from the chilly environment of the fridge fills his hand with sparks,  _ Sebastian chose this. Specifically.  _ The label does read how Sebastian said it would, Sunstruck Sweet Red Wine, it sounds good in the least. Chris pours half a glass into what might’ve been Sebastian’s glass beforehand and might not have been. It doesn’t matter right now. He looks up, raising an eyebrow in query. Sebastian nods and smiles, “little more,  _ please.”  _

Chris smiles back. More sparks fill him, moving beyond his hand where he touched Sebastian’s bottle of wine. He fills the rest of the glass and pours himself a little more than half of a glass. He usually only has half a glass of wine at a time but… he has the feeling that this will be good. 

And even if it’s not good, Chris already knows he’ll drink all of it simply because Seb picked it out. Sebastian picked it out and so it’ll be good and it’ll be good because it promises literally in the name to be sweet so hopefully it’ll be good with dessert. Anything wine should be good with what he made, well, what he assembled for dessert. The white wine they had with dinner wouldn’t have been terrible, it just wouldn’t have been the best. It’s too acidic and harsh to be paired with what he knows dessert will taste like. It’s meant to be paired with things like salmon and citrus and other harsh flavors because it opens up those flavors to be a little stronger and sweeter. Or, according to google and his own pretty unrefined taste buds, that’s how it is. 

When the wine returns to its place in the fridge Chris snatches the plate with dessert from its own spot, exchanging the items and realizing he doesn’t have enough hands to carry all three things at once. He takes the plastic wrap off, thinking about his options. His tongue, charmed with Sebastian’s spell, moves, “c’mere.” 

Deciding for him. 

Sebastian moves despite how the low volume of his supposed-to-be-request-but-not-actually-a-request is. Just as bewitched by his words as Chris is by him in general. It’s a fascinating effect. It does something to him… he’s not sure what that something is yet. 

He nods towards the wine, “get those,” he doesn’t ask, still basically whispering because apparently his sparkling magic has dripped down to his vocal cords from his tongue in the moments it’s taken Seb to cross the room, “I’ll carry dessert.” 

“Where are we going?” Sebastian sings cheerfully, joyfully swallowed around giggles leaking into his words. 

Chris didn’t think this far, “the living room.” His tongue twists before he can even think again.  _ Huh.  _ Maybe he needs to drink wine more? He doesn’t usually get anywhere near tipsy after just half of a glass. Maybe he needs to drink less beer? Maybe it really just is Sebastian’s fault for bewitching him?

Sebastian ends up leading the way, not even trying to look at the plate in his hands, playing along with the game that Chris isn’t even aware of the rules to quiet yet. 

When he leans over slightly and then stands back up to set the wine glasses carefully on the coffee table - not having to be wary of Dodger because he’s been gated to the other half of the bottom story where he still has access to outside because of his doggy door - Chris flushes beyond the blame of what wine might make him do. He inhales sharply too, like a breath of fresh air might manage to save him; barely remembering that he needs to keep still because he has food in his hands. His eyes cannot dance themselves over or away from the very, very obvious bulge in Sebastian’s painted on jeans. He doesn’t know what to make of it other than to blush and not even attempt to fight the heavy dropping of his breaths. Taking in the sight before him. 

Sebastian makes a sweet, little noise in the back of his throat that certainly translates to  _ holy fuck am I embarrassed.  _

Chris doesn’t know what else to do than to set down their dessert and to pull Sebastian into a kiss that nearly kills them both. Just on impact. 

He can feel Sebastian against him, like always. Slightly shorter and more than slightly smaller than himself. Warm and yielding. But. Also heavy and hot. From his boiling, flushed cheeks to his heaving, heated chest to his hard, hot erection, bulging his pants obscenely and pressing into Chris’ upper thigh. Sebastian moans, breathy and gorgeous into his mouth. Opening to him, unfolding like a flower as his hands trace up his arms to his shoulders, his neck, and then the sides of his face. Cupping his jaw and cheeks and holding him close. Keeping him close. 

Sebastian pulls away for a gasp of humid air and Chris chases him, unable to help himself. Keeping their lips at least brushing the whole time. Easily feeling the heavy rushes of air from each other's lungs over their faces. Sebastian’s panting already. He finds himself doing the same. He pecks Sebastian’s parted lips because they’re  _ right there,  _ completely ignoring the fact that he hasn’t even yet caught his own breath. 

The little peck melts into something much less sweet, less like the comforting, innocent embrace of hot cocoa and much more like chocolate fondue, suggestive and alluring. Awakening a hunger for something he didn’t know he had while satiating a want he was very familiar with. 

Chris licks the seam between Seb’s lips, fighting the screaming of his lungs. Sebastian gasps as his lips drop open to let him in, the sound bouncing around in Chris’ own mouth until it slips down his esophagus and becomes part of him. He keeps swallowing the noises Sebastian makes, relishing in the little moans and sighs and gasps as he explores his mouth with his tongue just as much as he enjoys the wet, obscene sounds their lips are making. Sliding together messily- hotter than anything. Chris’ veins have filled fully with lava. His cock is thrumming and hard against Sebastian’s. 

When Seb whines as he tries to kiss him again after pulling away Chris chuckles against his cheek rather than against his lips, giving him mercy, “‘m gonna suffocate,” he gasps, half laughing too. Sucking in breaths that make his chest expand against his own. Chris takes in a handful of breaths too, the screaming of his lungs lowering to a hum, enough that he can hear his own thoughts again. 

Sebastian leans his head back, pushing his slick, pink lips up, obviously expecting Chris to kiss him with just as much crazed fervor as he had been before. 

But now that he can hear his own thoughts his plans change. 

Chris slips a hand under his jaw- keeping his head where it is, holding him in place, pulling his other arm around his waist and pulling him against his body. Pausing to lower his eyelids and just  _ feel  _ Sebastian against him. Hot and hard. It makes Sebastian seem a couple inches shorter than he is, it also makes him seem smaller. One or both of those things has Sebastian twitching and clinging onto him harder, panting a little more. 

It adds fuel to Chris’ inferno, letting his words prowl up his throat a lot easier, slipping out from between his lips in a whispered near growl, “never been wined and dined so good, huh? That it?” 

Sebastian’s eyelashes fucking  _ flutter  _ and his mouth falls open  _ just  _ the tiniest bit wider with the little, breathless, punched-out noise that comes from him. Chris shivers. Squeezes him tighter, digging his own grave.    
  
The same compulsion to  _ tell  _ and not  _ ask  _ Sebastian to do things possesses him again,  _ “tell me.”  _ He whispers into Sebastian’s ear, nipping at the shell of his ear because he knows he likes that. Sebastian full out  _ moans-  _ sounding like he does when Chris strokes him slow and long and doesn’t let him squirm as much as he wants to, not letting him get away. His skin feels feverish against his lips as he waits for Sebastian to get himself together, stopping himself from devouring him. 

“No,” Sebastian whispers, embarrassment clouding his voice along with uncertainty, like he doesn’t actually know if he doesn’t want to tell him or not. Like he doesn’t know what that  _ no  _ means. Chris kisses him, once, just quickly. Rewarding him for telling him something and also hoping to get more words out of him. He tends to get quiet once he’s turned on. As if being turned on makes his mind turn into actual mush. It’s  _ stupidly _ erotic. Knowing that the less coherent the words that come out of Sebastian’s pretty lips are mean the more turned on he is, the harder and hotter he’ll be when Chris gets his hands and mouth on him. “‘S not just that,” he adds weakly, deciding what that “no” means. 

Chris pulls Sebastian down onto the couch, moving him easily. His muscles burning with desire just like the rest of him, not with the effort of moving the other grown man- Sebastian goes too easily for it to be difficult. He’s just a puddle of a man when he’s hard and wanting. “What is it then?” He asks as he gets Sebastian into his lap, brushing kisses over his gorgeous neck, honestly curious now, not just turned on and not thinking about anything else but his lust. More thinking about what Sebastian needs than what he does. 

Sebastian makes another soft, adorable embarrassed, back of the throat, noise. 

He doesn’t speak up. After the noise slips from him, honey sweet. 

_ “Hey,”  _ Chris coos, petting his lower back with the hand he’s got stationed there. Scratching the short-ish hairs at the base of his head, massaging the suddenly tense muscles there a little too, “it’s okay.” He hushes, caretaking instincts immediately just flowing up from within him without him even having to think about it, “you’re okay.” Sebastian nods. His eyes are still closed though, “we’re okay. Whatever it is… it’s okay I promise.” 

Sebastian squirms in his lap. Chris flexes his thighs out of response, tightening the muscle as if it’ll help the throbbing now consuming his cock and balls in sheer trained reaction. Usually anytime Sebastian is on his lap he’s squirming because he wants to be grinding away and moaning and gasping and crying a little, going soft and pliant on his cock as he reaches his peak. Head either thrown forward into his neck and shoulder, hiding, or thrown back to expose the vulnerable arch of his throat (which is just calling to be bitten but  _ no  _ they’re celebrities with public appearances to keep up). You really can’t blame him for getting harder. 

But Sebastian quits squirming instead, he turns his head to look away but Chris can still see how much he’s blushing. How much he wants to hide and squirm.

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay; I swear.” He insists. 

_ “What if it’s not though?” _ Sebastian murmurs after a heavy couple of silent seconds, his eyes shut against the atmosphere building between and around them. 

Chris tugs him closer, pulling him back to face him, “it is.” He argues uselessly, holding his jaw and cheek in one hand. Earnestly. Curling his other arm around his shoulders, laying them against each other more comfortably, aiming at making Sebastian more comfortable. Laughing weakly and placing one quick, earnest as all hell kiss over his mouth when his brain keeps looking at the beauty that is Sebastian Stan, in his lap or anywhere else, and says  _ if he’s turned on by roasted brussel sprouts I don’t care. I’m turned on too.  _ He fights for words that aren’t quite so pointblank, wanting to sound more gentle and settling on, “I’m into you, Seb.” He pauses, remembering to breathe. “You turn me on. So if something turns you on it sure as hell will get me too.” 

Sebastian nods and his lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. So it’s a win. 

And even before the blushing man adds, “me too… I’d. I’d do anything-” Chris smiles too. Sebastian just drags it out of him. He looks up, suddenly shy again as he adds another handful of soft spoken words, “for you.” 

They kiss. Who knows who starts it? Chris doesn’t. It just happens, feeling like they’ve never started and never will stop. It’s not boiling hot, getting him back to squirming- it’s just simmering, sweet. Too full of fragile emotion to get his cock aching so easily. Fragile emotion that you’re afraid to breath on for fear of it breaking, not the kind that fuels even more passion (like the kind of  _ you almost died  _ or  _ I’ve missed you so goddamn much _ kind of emotional passion that he imagines Steve and Bucky probably harbor). 

He’s still thinking about Sebastian as they kiss. More so that  _ I’m kissing Sebastian. Oh my god _ . He’s thinking about what he wants. If what they’re doing is good for him still. And what he likes about what they’ve been doing. 

His thumb strokes back and forth on Sebastian’s jaw, where he’s cradling his face. He kisses one of his gorgeous, sharp, high, and breathtaking cheekbones. Just because he can. Sipping in small inhales, trying to think about what he can do. What he can say. 

Sebastian beats him to the punch, “I like…” Chris feels his cheeks heat even  _ more  _ against his lips, still pressing little kisses to his cheek, his breath hitches. “I like the, uhh, I liked dinner but not. Not like-” 

“What salmon doesn’t do it for you?” He whispers, delight overtaking his insides when Sebastian smiles and huffs a little chuckle out at his comment, his shoulders and back dropping a good amount of the tension that was present before. Chris brushes his lips over his cheek again, because he can. And he’s right there. Why not? 

“No,” he breathes, “I liked the part where you, you, y’know, were taking care of me.” Chris nods, he had seemed annoyed a little about him not letting him help at all but in a good way, in a charmed way. Like- like he wanted to enjoy it more but won’t let himself, either because he thought Chris didn’t know he liked it or because his well trained people-pleasing instincts were screaming at him. Sebastian breathes out, slow, careful, “I also like. I like.” He stops, flushing impossibly darker. His voice comes out at half the volume- “I liked you telling me to just sit. Telling me to just drink the wine you picked out and not do anything you didn’t ask me to.” 

He glances up, shy and small, as if he’s asking if it’s okay that he likes it. He might as well be a timid kitten, sitting in his lap and pretending he’s not there because he wants to pet. He looks so anxious and scared by his own admission - or rather, so scared that he’s admitted it to  _ him  _ not that he just is ashamed by his own wants - that Chris has to make sure he understands. For himself. For them both. He speaks up in the same type of voice that Sebastian is using, the kind of low, slow, and sweet sound that you expected to hear from kids at a sleepover. Huddling under a blanket, using a flashlight to read or chat past the time they were supposed to go to bed. “You enjoyed me taking care of you and telling you what to do? Like, giving you  _ orders?” _

Sebastian swallows audibly. Chris feels his cock twitch where it’s pressed into him, the surge of blood responding to his words- particularly to the word “order”, probably because of his own lack of control over how heated he said it. Power and arousal, heady and strong, rush through him regardless. Emotions surging at having such easy control over Sebastian’s pleasure. 

“Yes,” he says, low in volume but high in pitch, almost whining. His breathing shallow and quick, eyes shut tighter than necessary when he blinks. Chris tilts his head up with a couple of fingers under his chin and they just kiss for a moment, magnetically drawn to one another, lips crashing into each other. Small words with big meaning floating in their atmosphere, keeping them to their own world like they really are under a blanket. Kept safe from the rest of the world. From the darkness. From parental figures. From general responsibilities too. Sebastian whines into his mouth, breathy and gorgeous, Chris groans in response. Getting swept up in the music of their sounds and movements. Hypnotized by everything about Sebastian: his voice, his body, his words, his mind. Everything. 

He pulls away after an uncountable amount of time - both less than a second and more than a decade - breathing heavy with his pulsing arousal and also the lack of available air when making out like starved teenagers. Sebastian’s fingers brush through his beard and his skin sings with the contact. He strokes a hand through Seb’s hair in return, hoping it brings him the same tide of heat. The goosebumps that erupt over his skin seems to say that he does feel it, probably even stronger than he does- he always seems like he’s sensitive. Chris hums a little to watch Sebastian glow with the approval swimming in his throat and leaking into the sound. 

“I want you to tell me more.” He declares, his voice still quiet but firm, making sure that Sebastian knows that it’s not a shy order this time. It’s not something he’s doing because he can’t help it this time. Putting more authority behind his words the way he found himself doing when directing. “Beyond this.” He clarifies, setting Sebastian up for success, he wants him to be good. To be good at being good. He strokes his hands down Sebastian’s back; petting him. 

Sebastian sighs, he melts even more, feeling his hands on his body. Calming. 

“I like a lot of things,” he mumbles. 

“So do I-” he noses Sebastian’s temple “-but this is about you.”    


He shivers again. He clears his throat. Shaking himself in a way that can’t be attributed to involuntary reaction to something he enjoys. Readying himself. 

Chris can sense the thickening of the air as he combs through his thoughts- everything is a little heavier, every breath from his swollen lips makes his skin buzz in anticipation, his eyes seem clearer, like he’s purposely shaking himself from his arousal in order to ensure he gets whatever is about to come out of his mouth right. Chris keeps touching him anyway, he can’t tear his hands away, trying not to do anything that will get him even more riled up or make him lose his focus even though their erections are pressing heavily against each other so it’s not like what he does with his hands must help all that much. 

He inhales, slow and even like he’s sitting in a yoga class rather than on his lap. He exhales, just as even and slow as his inhale. Chris matches his breathing. 

“Do you know anything about BDSM?”

He says it so fast that it nearly whips straight over his head without him hearing or processing it. 

But when he does process it, Chris finds his lips curling into a smile before he can stop them from doing so, the same happening as he huffs out a noise that sounds like a laugh stretched out and filled with breath even though he’s not laughing. He doesn’t even want to laugh at Sebastian. He just…  _ “sorry,” _ he takes a couple of breaths, modeled after the way Seb had been breathing, “I just thought it was gonna be something like… really out there.” Sebastian cocks his head at him, narrowing his eyes. He swallows. “Yeah,” licks his lips, “I’ve heard of it, I haven’t done much of it at all. None of it really. Keep going.” 

"I…” he takes another breath too, “I like pretty much all, all of that. And other things. But. I mean- I think everyone does to a certain extent so,” he shuts his mouth. Clenches his jaw. Swallows. Opens his mouth. Closes it, “so that’s not the point.” Chris nods, looking straight into Sebastian’s pretty eyes, trying to plainly convey that he’s following. “The point-” Chris realizes his hands are shaking where they lie palm down on his thighs, so he grabs them, intertwining their fingers. Squeezing a little. Not even thinking for a second about how sweaty his palms are- he’s too focused on how brave Sebastian is being. “Is,” his voice breaks,  _ “is  _ that I like those things but I like those things because I really really really like…” he trails off. Chris squeezes his hands, rubbing unfocused circles on the backs of his hands, wanting to tell him it’s okay but feeling somewhere in the back of his mind that this is something Sebastian needs to work through in silence. 

“I’m submissive,” he whispers, his voice the quietest Chris has ever heard it, small and meek. Just like the word. An echo of it which-

_ Submissive. Submissive. Submissive. Submissive. Sub-  _ the word echoes on a loop in Chris’ head, sounding like the rest of his head is completely empty, the word just bouncing like a ball between the walls of his drained skull. 

Chris plans to swim through the waves of  _ that word  _ and say something to him but Sebastian reaches land first, better at treading the waters that’ve held him for years, getting to his feet and leaving prints in the sand as he rises. Paving him a path to follow when he does reach the shore. For now he stays in silence, listening to only Sebastian. 

“I’m submissive and I know that it’s a lot. BDSM in of itself is a lot. Wanting to be tied or held down, blindfolded maybe, told certain things, submitting - subbing - for someone. Liking rougher things. Things that require toys and time and trust and safewords and a lot of things. A lot of people aren’t-” his eyebrows come together, he starts again, “they can’t-” he blows out a breath and sucks it back in. “A lot of people don’t or can’t or won’t deal with it because it’s so much. Or, y’know, they aren’t into it. Which is fine. I get that. A lot of people are just straight up vanilla not kinky… but, I don’t know. It’s just a lot and… and I just assumed, I- I thought, kinda, that I- that you-” 

_ “Hey,” _ Chris calls to him, pulling their intertwined hands toward his body, trying to pull Sebastian back from his spinning mind with the move,  _ “it’s okay,” _ he breathes, hoping he sounds earnest and calming and not pitying. He meets Sebastian’s eyes again, the movement of their hands drawing his gaze back. “Deep breath,” he murmurs. Sebastian does as he asks-  _ of course, he’s so good,  _ Chris thinks. Aching with the knowledge. He kisses the corner of his mouth, “you can keep going when you’re ready. Or not, it's okay. I’m right here. I’ll listen to whatever you want me to but, like, I’d rather not hear you panic talk. ‘Cause then I can’t understand.” 

“Right,” Sebastian chases his mouth, kissing him square on the lips while his own curl up at the corners, sighing out, “thanks,” and kissing him once more. 

He pauses. Chris watches as the gears turn within him, giving him space but keeping them tethered together just in case. 

“I’m submissive.” Sebastian says, a burst of pride busting into Chris’ chest at how  _ not  _ shy he sounds now. His voice is steady. “I like- I want my partners to be dominant because I, uhh, I need  _ that.  _ I need to give up control, it’s just something I’ve always, y’know, felt. I don’t need to fully submit to someone every time, I don’t need it to get off most of the time, but it’s my favorite thing. By far. And I  _ do  _ need it sometimes- for myself and to get off. I need to have someone take over for me, to give me orders and things. During sex.” He’s blushing an adorable amount. “And I just…” he deflates a little, blowing out a big breath, “I know I need a lot of things within that vein, Chris, so I didn’t- I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t know about… what you like? And I didn’t- I wouldn’t, wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to deal with all of it. It’s- it’s a lot, I know.” 

Chris hears the fine print. Sebastian didn’t want to go beyond dry humping and handjobs because he was afraid that he wouldn’t get  _ it.  _ Or worse- be  _ scared  _ of it. 

Chris grabs him close. Closer. 

He gives up the equal cradle they have, holding hands, to wrap him up in his arms. Coaxing his head down into the junction between his shoulder and neck. Hugging him as much as he can when they’re like this. When Sebastian is sitting in his lap. “Thank you,” he tells Sebastian, turning his head to kiss the top of his head. Rubbing his back a little, not actually moving his hands too much, enjoying holding him too much. He can  _ feel  _ the confusion bubbling inside of him. He must’ve been expecting rejection… 

He pulls him closer, or, maybe he doesn’t. They might be too close already. But he  _ feels  _ like he pulls him closer. 

Then he says it again, yearning for him to know, “ **thank you,** Seb, for telling me.” He feels like he might need to shake Sebastian as he says that, to ensure that he gets that part of it, but he doesn’t. “I appreciate that you trust in me enough to tell me now. I do. I don’t know about  _ this, _ BDSM, being submissive, or the other things you say you need but I’d be willing to learn. To do research or to talk or whatever you think makes the most sense.” 

Sebastian nods, he looks very close to tears, and Chris doesn’t have any more words. 

Silence lays thick and heavy between them but not in a restrictive or suffocating way. Just in a comforting way, like a weighted blanket after a day of near panic plaguing your mind. Holding you down to earth because the only alternative is floating away, up into space. 

They don’t talk. They don’t move. 

Chris can hear Sebastian breathing but he’s not quite sure if he is or not. 

If he is? 

Well. It doesn’t matter. 

Sebastian shifts first, the fabric shifting and catching grabbing Chris’ attention before anything else, his mind moving through water, trying to run when the current holds him back. It’s not in warning of his impending doom to drown, it’s helping him, showing him gently that the way he is faced is not the way he should go. It’s comforting. Just like the relative silence. 

Sebastian shifts enough that suddenly Chris can see his eyes, glassy with tears, unshed and pooling like miniature oceans. On the surface of his eyes and supported by his sweeping lashes. He sniffles a little. Chris’ muscles twitch, squeezing him harder, bringing him closer by feeling but not by the rules of reality. Their foreheads collide, not hard enough to worry about concussions, just enough to bear laughter from wincing. Pulling away from each other just the tiniest bit, fearful of head injuries. 

But Sebastian is first reeled back in, bumping their foreheads perfectly gently, “thanks,” he says, faint and soft. Smiling privately. 

“That’s my line,” he shoots back, “you can’t take it.” 

Chris very possibly goes cross eyed while trying to take in all that Sebastian’s fetching face does as he laughs, his eyes shutting, crows feet appearing, his nose scrunching, making some more very cute lines show up, his mouth curling into that wry, kittenish smirk. Cheeks flushing just a touch. 

“I can’t have it?” Sebastian asks, being a little shit and looking at him with those big eyes, making them go all soft and sparkly, innocent like he doesn’t know just what he’s doing as his bottom lip pushes out a little more. Blinking slow and cat-like, practically making a breeze with his eyelashes. 

Chris swears under his breath, quickly murmuring, “only ‘cause you’re cute,” as he ducks into another kiss. Giving himself over to the intoxicating heat of Sebastian’s plush mouth, tasting him, licking into his mouth when he opens his mouth easy as anything. Letting him in because he asked. Submitting and folding beautifully under him. 

He swells back to life in his jeans, emotions besides lust and desire having taken the front seat for a moment, the zipper in his clothes is unforgiving between his flesh and Sebastian’s, driving his appetite to get undressed to something even more voracious than before, his hunger for Sebastian returning with a vengeance. Forcing him to lean farther back into the couch, pulling Sebastian with him to keep them pressed together completely. Not accepting a hair of space between them. Even when he needs to breathe and finds himself gasping against Sebastian’s even more swollen and reddened mouth, their slick, buzzing lips dragging intimately against each other. Breathing the other’s air into their lungs. Sebastian hums against him when he regains enough air to start to claim his mouth all over again. Nipping and licking where he can, desire flushing every inch of his skin. He’s not the least bit tired of him. Not even satisfied with having enough of a taste of him yet. 

Then his brain reels back to all of the days he’s spent wasting away, lonely, and staring straight at his mouth. Daydreaming of what he might kiss like- what he might taste like. 

And because of it he’s pulling away, holding Sebastian’s face with his hands, not from passion this time, but to make sure that he can’t lunge forward and stop him from talking because as much as he wants to fucking _ consume  _ the very willing man in his lap, pushing his own erection into his, he needs to ask the sudden question on his mind before he explodes. 

“So,” the word comes out heavy and hot, the little space between their mouths slick and sweltering with physical and mental heat. Charged with their arousal like it’s electricity. “As basic as you can get- you like giving over control. With sex.” Sebastian nods, looking as dizzy as he feels. “But,” Chris slips his thumb forward to catch his bottom lip, scored with teeth marks, hopefully some being his own as well as Seb’s, “is… is-” he doesn’t know how to ask what he wants to know.  _ Is sticking things in your mouth innocently and driving me fucking insane part of what you like in the bedroom? Can I stick  _ my  _ fingers in your mouth if it is? Can I even if it’s not? Can I get you to choke on my- _

And, okay,  _ stop.  _

Sebastian saves him for the millionth time, his dark, hungry eyes boring into his. Flicking down quickly like he’s trying to  _ see  _ where his thumb is skirting into his mouth. The heavy puffs of breath pulsing around his thumb answers the question he doesn’t know how to ask, even as Sebastian tells him, “that’s part of it.” His voice breathless and choppy and making Chris’ balls throb, knowing that it’s a  _ flawless _ preview of how shot his voice mid-fuck is. His throat dries. 

He pushes his thumb completely into Sebastian’s mouth. Peering into his lust darkened eyes, seeing his own disheveled appearance reflected right back at him, making sure he’s reading this correctly. 

Sebastian  _ melts.  _

His eyelashes do the fluttery thing that means he’s doing something really good for him, his mouth closes around his finger but before his lips fully shut a soft,  _ desperate  _ noise slips out of him. Rushing down from Chris’ ears to his cock, making him twitch. His cheek flush and they always do when he’s turned on but it’s never not a sight for sore eyes. Chris can feel his warm, wet, salacious tongue on his skin and he damn near melts at it too. Instantly aching with his impulsive imagination, vivid with the delicious idea of how fucking  _ good _ his mouth would feel around his cock. He watches, his own throat a desert, as Sebastian swallows around him, his Adam's apple bobbing invitingly. Once more causing him to curse their fame,  _ fuck,  _ does he want to dig his teeth into his throat. 

Chris is so shocked with his ability to continue thinking, let alone come up with a good idea, that he jolts when his brain presents him with a golden idea. 

Sebastian’s eyes flutter open, just as dark and glassy as they were when he shut them. Chris gets the gut clenching feeling that if they could be darker they would be. He knows how much harder that made him. And how fast he got hard. 

Slowly, as if he’s approaching a small, timid animal and not taking his hand back from Sebastian, he pulls his thumb from between the siren call of his lips. He would swear he was shaking with the vibrating,  _ right now  _ feeling in his chest if he couldn’t see - as he moves his hands - that he’s not. Sebastian still whines. Chris feels  _ filthy  _ for all the arousal fresh, thick, and  _ hot  _ that pours down his spine at the noise. 

He swallows, clears his throat, and swallows again, “submitting,” he starts, “it doesn’t just have to be during sex for you, right?” He’s thinking purely about the sight of his cock tenting his jeans after being told to eat and drink. 

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, breathless, unsteady, and whiny. Sounding fucking perfect. 

Chris nods, knowing that not knowing will make him feel like he’s giving up more control than he is and that’ll help. He’s not ready to completely take the reins from Sebastian without having a deeper conversation- without knowing more. But he has to at least say this first, “stop me if this isn’t good, or if it’s not what you want, okay?” 

Sebastian shivers, nodding. 

“Words,” the command flies out of his mouth before he can stop it.    


But he doesn’t need to worry about his overeager instincts because Sebastian yields, beautiful as always, shaking in his skin and with his words, “yes. I understand.” 

His own muscles obey the command of tremors, mirror Sebastian, barely delayed. He can perfectly picture Seb saying that with greater meaning attacked.  _ I want you to suck my cock, okay? Yes, I understand. I want you to not make a sound because I told you you couldn’t, okay? Yes, I understand. I want you to wear this cock ring and plug the entire night, tell me if it’s too much, okay? Yes, sir, I und- _

_ And,  _ oh god,  _ where did that come from? _

He shakes himself, ignoring the throbbing inside of him that’s not from how hard he is- he just wants  _ that  _ so bad. He never knew.  _ Okay, so, research for me and Seb,  _ he tells himself, squeezing Sebastian in the same way that he would squeeze his hand if their fingers were intertwined. Trying to tell him,  _ I mean it,  _ as he begins to lean forward, enjoying the sweet little squeak it draws from Sebastian and the way it makes his fingers curl desperately into his shoulder and shirt. Not wanting to fall and reaching out to him to ensure that he doesn’t end up hurt. At this point he has no fucking idea who’s glass is who’s. He picks the closest one, not wanting to lean even closer,  _ well- actually.  _

He tugs the coffee table closer. Sebastian doesn’t notice or doesn’t care- it’s fine by him, he just wants to be able to get to their drinks and dessert easily. 

“Tip your head back for me, baby.” He asks, holding the glass of wine up in his peripheral vision so he knows what to do. To not tip his head all the way back. Just enough. 

He does tilt his head back, perfectly, making excess praise spill over his lips like wine over the rim of the glass and into Sebastian’s awaiting, gaped mouth. Chris gives him enough to get a good taste, falling somewhere between a sip and a mouthful, before pulling the glass away. Watching him swallow, his head still tilted back obediently. His heart keeps racing, treating the marathon that he wants to be on like a sprint. His fingers and toes feel warm like he’s the one drinking more wine. 

The process happens again, just as perfect on Sebastian’s part. Easily taking the wine like he’s been eating from the palm of his hand for a millennia. His lips go from teeth and kiss reddened to wine stained. Candied in their gorgeous color, stoking the fire smoldering in the pit of Chris’ stomach. 

“Did you make a good choice?” Chris asks, trying for the best dominating and almost ominous way to ask him if it tastes good without outright plainly asking him. He wants this to be good for Sebastian. 

His eyes had already been open but as he blinks and refocuses in on the question at hand it looks more like he’s been woken from a nap, like he’s only just now really opened his eyes. It pours more gasoline on the fire ablaze inside him for some reason. He looks like he’s really trying hard to answer correctly. Chris kisses his cheek for his effort, allowing for him to put together his response. Just to gage, a little more, what kind of game he wants to play. 

“Yeah, I think so,” he says, voice softened again. Either by the wine or submission. Probably both though. He hums and lifts the glass again, letting him have another swallow or two of it. If he likes it, he should have more of it. 

More and more and more sips of wine flow between his lips, disappearing down his gorgeous throat, making his eyelids weigh heavier and heavier. Hiding his hungry eyes, fraction by fraction. Heating Chris hotter and hotter as he’s allowed to give him everything he needs. As he’s allowed to  _ decide  _ what he needs. He knows he’s rock solid in his pants and aching with it but he doesn’t care, he could watch Sebastian take wine from the glass in his hand for the rest of his years and be perfectly sated. He knows his skin is alive and buzzing and wanting to receive it’s own pleasure but he’s having too damn much fun pleasuring Sebastian. Teasing him too. 

“Aren’t you gonna have any?” Sebastian asks, sweet as candy with his big eyes and soft words. Chris lifts the glass back to his lips instead of shaping his own words, watching as his eyes slide shut, unquestioning. His heart races with attraction, arousal, and shimmering anxiety. 

He pours too much into his mouth. Knowing he won’t be able to swallow all of it the whole while. 

Just one river of decadent, erotic, excess flows from his mouth, wetting and staining his otherwise perfect, unmarked skin. Stopping to pool at his jaw like it knows Chris’ plan, leaving Sebastian to be the only one between the three of them that doesn’t know what’s going to happen here. Innocent and unsuspecting. Sebastian’s eyes are still closed, his head still tipped slightly back, yielding his vulnerable throat to his carnivorous eyes, but he  _ knows  _ the second his lips meet his skin that his eyes will open and his muscles will tense with shock. He feels like a predator on the hunt, starving and weak, not knowing if he’ll even have the energy to chase but finding a fresh kill that’s been abandoned, left to his hunger. Flesh still unmarked with blood save for the first and final blow. 

He chases the river of wine from Sebastian’s jaw to his mouth. 

Nothing has ever made him both want to purr and to _growl_ at the same time as much as he does when he finds the other man’s lips already parted and welcoming, knowing and accepting that he is at his mercy. Chris chases the taste of the wine from his mouth and the sounds flowing up Sebastian’s throat. Wanting more of both but mostly wanting more of him. Claiming his mouth with his tongue, lips, and teeth, with anything he can think of because he _wants._

He pulls away, breathing hard and trying to banish the thoughts that urge him just like when kissing someone with lipstick or lip gloss on, that his lips will be stained with wine because of Seb. He doesn’t need to go down the mind bending possibility of what would happen if he put those two things together, Sebastian and lipstick. Sebastian’s mouth does  _ not  _ need any help. He’d lose his goddamn mind for-fucking-ever. 

“Good pick,” Chris hears himself rumbles into his mouth, barely swallowing down his pleased grin when Sebastian keens, leaning into his lips even harder. Pushing more of himself against him like he’s actually going boneless. Sebastian’s hips are the only thing that don’t seem to turn straight to liquid, they thrust forward into him, pulling another needy moan from his throat. 

Chris pulls away, digging his hand into Seb’s side when he whines at being left without kisses. Sounding like it’s  _ so  _ hard to be  _ so  _ neglected. 

He chuckles, warming with the pleasure of having so much control over Sebastian- taking to it as much as he takes to heat produced from being as aroused as he is currently. Placing the glass back onto the table he finds it with new eyes and sees that it’s nearly dry. Hopefully Sebastian really did have enough at dinner, he would surely be drunk, maybe past that, if he was drinking on an empty stomach; nearly two glasses of white wine at dinner and another glass of red at dessert… he’s got to be at least tipsy. His fingers meet the cool, smooth surface of the plate he pulled from the fridge earlier. 

He leans back and sets the plate on the arm of the couch next to them. 

“Feelin’ okay?” He hushes into the side of Sebastian’s throat, laving the flushed, lightly sweaty surface with kisses. Sebastian’s breath catches and releases. A little choked sound gurgles in the back of his mouth. He nods. 

Chris bites him. 

“I want you to talk to me,” he says, soft enough to soothe the minor hurt of being bitten but still keeping firm, adding to the balming effect by kissing over the quickly fading mark. Drawing his tongue over it a few times just to be sure. Sebastian squirms on his lap, grinding his perfect ass over his cock hotly. Through their clothes- which is disappointing but he’s not sure he’s got the piece of mind to want to stop touching him for long enough for either of them to get naked. He doesn’t think he could stand it if Sebastian got off of him. He digs his fingers into his sides just to ensure that he can’t even though he can feel in the electric current between them that Sebastian isn’t going anywhere unless he tells him too. 

“I’m ‘kay,” he offers. Slurring the tiniest bit. Chris is very glad they’ve done part of this, the part where they grind into each other until someone can’t take it anymore and cums, before because it means that the hint of slurring doesn’t break his fever. He knows Sebastian gets nonverbal and slurry when he gets hard. He’s not drunk enough to slur yet though. 

_ “Good,” _ he praises Seb thickly, leaning into their kiss and breathing it into his mouth. His nerves singing and his gut clenching at the reaction it pulls from Sebastian. An instinctual mewl and tightened grip on his shoulders. His eyes were already shut so he seeks out his mouth blindly. Trusting and easy and the most fucking eager, submissive partner Chris has ever had. He may be actually sitting in his lap but he’s acting more like he’s in the palm of his hand. 

Fire licks up his spine, feeling Sebastian’s lips hot, slick, and uncoordinated against his own. Lacking in technique now that he’s been stripped down to naked, carnal desire but making up for it with his eager lips and tongue and sounds. He’s never had Sebastian like this. He  _ loves  _ it. 

Chris is expecting the whiny, impatient whimper that will come from his mouth as he pulls away but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t just as accurately punch him in the gut when he hears it. It works its way down into his head again, reaching the most basic, primal parts of him and rubbing them raw like water eroding mountains into valleys. It’s more and more effective every time he hears it. 

He fumbles for the plate, somehow not knocking it over and instead managing to get one of the pieces of their dessert between his trembling fingers. He breathes in and out. Forgetting with his heady want that oxygen is only fuel for fire. The one under his skin, filling his veins with lava, and turning his internal organs to mush rages. Roaring. Demanding. 

“Here, Seb,” he rasps. Holding it up to his lips, close but not immediately close enough for him to just open up. It’s farther than that. And waiting for him to move his head forward and take it from between his fingers, already knowing and feeling the phantom sensations of his lips on his skin, is the most torture he’s put himself through tonight. He cannot imagine Sebastian’s situation. His aching. 

Sebastian’s eyes flick open, Chris is ready for the soft curiously settling in those pools, “I’m not much of a dessert chef,” he admits, rocky, “I bought some angel food cake,”  _ because you said you liked it,  _ he adds mentally, he knows from Sebastian’s expression that he hears it anyway though. Opening his mouth and adding, “I cut it up with some strawberries, melted some chocolate over it.” He shrugs, turning his hand to move the dessert between his lax lips, waiting for them to shut before pulling back. Taking the toothpick that was holding the treat together with his hand. His fingers twitch, wanting to press down on the younger man’s throat as he swallows- not to stop him from doing so, or to stop him from breathing, but to feel him taking the food from his fingertips again. For just another dirty thrill. Another rush of heat. 

Seb moans indecently at the flavor, making him ache, and holds onto him as he swallows because that’s what his hands were already busy doing and because he’s leaning back forward and grabbing the other glass of wine. Giving him just enough to help the cake and berry and the small amount of chocolate go down, not wanting to get him any tipsier the first time they do something like this. He wants to ask him for critique after they’re done. 

He sets the glass down on the carpet by his foot, the danger of stains not even crossing his mind in the slightest when he’s got a melted Sebastian in his lap. 

His fingers decide to trace the cut of his jaw, feeling his flush and the sweat gathering on his skin, “how hard does this make you?” 

Sebastian doesn’t need to be reminded to use words this time.  _ Good boy,  _ his thoughts offer, realizing this. Seb licks his lips, letting his head hang back between his shoulders for a moment, his breaths sounding more like gasps as he tells the ceiling,  _ “so hard.” _ Whimpering under the words in the most delicious undercurrent Chris has ever heard. He sounds like he’s on the edge of tears and his own cock weeps into his jeans at the mere mention of being hard as if it’s trying to remind him of its presence, jerking at the idea of Sebastian crying because he’s so hard but he hasn’t cum because Chris hasn’t told him to yet. He focuses on the Sebastian that’s real and in front of him instead of his fantasy Seb. 

“Yeah?” He brushes his lips to the arch of his throat, licking a path of hot desire up the front of his throat when saliva fills his mouth as a result of another pornographic noise, dripping out of Sebastian’s pretty mouth like honey. Thick and sweet. He knows he’s asking a lot- trying to pull more words from his lips, but he can’t help himself. 

Sebastian, the  _ perfect _ submissive, doesn’t need any more prodding anyway, he nods frantically instead,  _ “yes!”  _ He gasps, a tiny sob bursting under the breathy claim. “It makes me.  _ So hard,” _ he cries, “‘m, I’m-” he cuts himself off with a moan. Which is completely his fault because he can’t keep himself from palming the sweet small of his back and bringing his cock forward into the hard plane of his abs. Wanting to feel every little twitch and pulse of his cock, of his hips. Selfish with his hunger. 

“You’re-?” Chris prompts him, not stopping for long enough to apologize for what he’s purposely putting him through. Keeping his hand where it is, telling him silently that he’s got him right where he wants him, telling him to stay. 

Sebastian sounds like he’ll cry still but this time it sounds like he might do it out of embarrassment rather than out of desperation. Or, rather, it sounds like he might be more embarrassed then shamelessly wanting when he chokes out, “‘m so hard it  _ hurts.”  _

Chris can’t help the growling purr that cuts from his chest, vibrating Sebastian’s where it’s pressed against his. He knows  _ exactly  _ how that feels. His cock is so hard and twitching so fucking much and it aches and feels like it’s trying to break free by itself from his jeans. Pressing harshly into his zipper and into Sebastian beyond. Aching to push out of his clothes and  _ into  _ Sebastian. To soothe the hurt of his cock with the sweet agony of the tight clench of his body, to empty his balls from their equal hurt by emptying into him. To make him sob his way through being stretched open, pried apart  _ just  _ for  _ him. _ To make him wait to cum until he’s sitting pretty on his cock, gasping and crying fat tears, begging for him to move or to do  _ anything.  _

The thought of making Sebastian sit still on his cock until he can get the words out to describe what it feels like makes him buck up into him, pushing him into a deeply locked fantasy with the help of a needy moan- “ _ nnnhg,” his face is painted with ecstasy, thick and rich, “god, fuck, Chris! Sir!” He’s sobbing, trying his hardest to circle his hips over his cock but the bruises dappling his hips multiplying by the moment with the bite of his fingertips stops him. It makes him whimper and cry more, making him beg incoherently before he coaxes him into talking more so he can earn his orgasm with his needy, half-crazed words. “It feels so, so good. So good. Makes me hurt but- hurts good. Fuck, sir, you’re so  _ thick. _ So thick and filling me up so good. Making my little hole ache with the stretch. You’re so big.” _

Chris is brought to the real world and not the world in his mind (because apparently with Sebastian near his brain always lives in the gutter) by another word falling from Sebastian’s lips, high and breathy in a new way, “plea-please!” He sounds so  _ sweet.  _ So broken. 

He’s making him grind into him again, subconsciously having dug his fingers  _ hard  _ into his sides to push and pull his gorgeous body back and forth while thinking. Hopefully he’ll have bruises dotting his hips even though he’s still in his pants. He spares a kiss to the corner of his mouth in apology, “good boy,” he breathes hot and heavy over his flushed skin, low in tone and volume. Truly meaning it.

Sebastian writhes in his arms as a reaction to something. Either his words or just his voice. He doesn’t know, but it fuels him more than anything. Driving him with borderline evil ambition to wring as many of those involuntary, primal reactions from his Sebastian as he can. He’s whimpering, his breath catching in wet sounds that are only millimeters from sobs, trying fruitlessly to do something. He’s not crying-  _ not yet,  _ adds the flesh hungry animal now taking up the back of his mind but Chris isn’t even sure he knows he’s moving. He’s just  _ reacting.  _

Heat flushes him fully. Awakening places that he didn’t know existed. 

He throws him a rope, growling, “tell me when you’re going to cum.” Sebastian keens, actually trembling now and nodding haphazardly, eyes closed, before he even gets out the additional sentence he has for him, “And I’ll tell you when you can.” He kisses him again because he can, even though all that really happens is that he ends up licking into Seb’s mouth hotly while he moans and lets it happen. Apparently beyond trying to kiss back, drowning in his pleasure and denial. 

His shaking fingers weakly pull at his shirt, stretching it out with how long they’ve been curled there but he doesn’t care. It just serves as a reminder that he has yet to get Sebastian naked. 

Sebastian whimpers like it’s the worst thing  _ ever _ when he uncurls his fingers from his shirt so he’ll be able to get him out of his own, immediately burrowing his face into his chest when his fingers come free like he’s afraid he’s going to leave. Chris wouldn’t dream of it. Never. But Sebastian, even out of it on pleasure, beautiful as he writhes and moans and chokes, is smart and he understands the second he begins untucking the bottom of his shirt what he’s trying to accomplish. He tries to help. His shaking fingers aren’t much help so Chris lets go of his shirt, kissing his knuckles in turn and telling him, “arms up.” 

He moves beautifully for him, like he was meant to. 

“Good boy,” he rasps, ripping his shirt off of him, only sparing enough thought to the process to ensure that his face doesn’t get caught although-  _ he did mention blindfolds so…  _ He schools himself. No.

Feeling Sebastian’s reaction to being praised is addicting, it makes his fingers tingle with something dark and dangerous, feeling the way he shakes like the vibrations from his own voice are moving him, feeling the goosebumps rise, feeling the sweat increase with his body temperature. If anyone was capable of a true full body blush, it’s Sebastian.  _ He’d look pretty covered in red. A blush. Something… pretty. Handprints. Bite marks. Yeah- red.  _

Chris groans, going fucking insane, looking down at all his pretty skin. The flush and the sweat. The pretty shape of his muscles laid under smooth, smooth skin. His nipples. His heaving chest. His rippling abs. Fuck going crazy- seeing him shirtless is more than that. There’s not a word for what he feels when he can see him, just for his eyes, vulnerable and exposed. Bare. And,  _ jesus,  _ Chris wants him naked, he wants to be able to see and  _ consume  _ all of him but he can’t fucking wait. He needs- he needs to get him to cum. He wants to see him tiptoe the edge and only control himself because he’s obeying him. 

Chris pushes back on one of his shoulders and keeps his other hand melted into the small of his back, pressing into his spine, keeping their cocks against each other. Hot and wet and hard. Even through clothes. The demanding position of his hands presses Sebastian’s chest up, revealing him to Chris’ ravenous eyes. 

He gets one of those sharp, pretty points of oh-so sensitive skin between his lips. Sucking and grazing his teeth over his nipple. Holding him in place. 

Sebastian  _ howls,  _ shocked and uninhibited because he didn’t have any time to prepare. Gasping after he nearly screams, unable to get enough air into his lung, his chest weakly contracting under his mouth. Chris feels himself twitch and leak. His own nipples tightening in sympathy. Sebastian chokes on the air he doesn’t have when switches sides, crying out all over again, his back pressing into Chris and into his hand, trying to find some way for him to escape. Overwhelmed by pleasure. Too much because he hasn’t gotten any until now and not enough because all he has gotten is the dull friction of his cock through his pants. 

Chris moves the hand from his shoulder to his other nipple, turning his head to watch himself work, releasing the one he just had his mouth on, rubbing his beard against the abused, delicate pink flesh because Sebastian seems to like feeling his beard. Sebastian swears, says something about god that certainly counts as taking the lord's name in vain, and his body restlessly moves under his mouth- over his cock. 

He pauses, breathing heavily. Accidentally flushing his peaked nipples with hot, wet air that makes him whine high in the back of his throat. He strokes his hand along Sebastian’s pec, down his ribs, over his rippling abs, and down to his lap. Pushing his palm into his twitch cock, feeling the heady heat and thickness of him. Noting with carnal delight that he’s got a wet spot…  _ in his goddamn jeans.  _ He’s soaked himself through his fucking boxers and now is ruining his pants. He groans, his insides vibrating with his own need, pushing his forehead into Seb’s chest just for a breather. 

Diving in one last time. Sucking meanly on his nipple, relishing in the high, desperate noise that cuts from him. He switches sides. Tonguing and sucking the other until he makes the same needy noise. 

Then he pulls away, taking pride in how swollen and fucking  _ pink _ his nipples are. Brushing his bearded cheek as lightly as he can over the right because he can’t resist, choking on the whimpery noise he earns himself. 

With all of his attention centered over Sebastian’s cock all of the sudden, shaping his fingers and palm around his heft and stroking him through his jeans it’s literally under a minute before Sebastian is opening his mouth with a staggeringly slutty moan, trying his hardest to get actual words out, “‘m, ‘m- I, ‘mmm gonna, gonna-” 

“Yeah?” Chris interrupts him, grinning because he knows he’s being a dick and pulling his hand around from his lower back to his chest, pushing him back. Sebastian doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s moving under his hand. He doesn’t tense or squeak or do anything as he lowers him back onto the out of place coffee table. Chris swears under his breath. God-fucking-damn this kid. So trusting and sweet. 

But apparently the joke is on him because the second Sebastian’s shoulders hit the coffee table, narrowly knocking over the empty glass that was forgotten on the table, he’s arching his back like Chris paid him to and moaning raggedly. The change in position has lowered his ass directly over his cock. And if that isn’t enough Sebastian is also mewling, “‘m gonna cum,” in the most  _ filthy  _ innocent voice, sounding small and young and kittenish as ever. 

Wherever the  _ fuck  _ his mind has gone… he doesn’t want it back. 

Chris moans. He pulls at Sebastian’s hips and tugs his perfectly plush, round ass more comfortably over his cock, pressing up into him like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. It is the only thing that’s on his mind. Sebastian moans. He chokes. And. Starts. Sobbing. 

He isn’t sure his mind exists anymore. 

“You wanna cum?” He growls out, his voice rough and painful with how much he’s been using it, with how turned on he is. Sebastian nods frantically, whimpering all the while. His spit-shiny, swollen, torture-red nipples catch the left over light in the room, his skin glassy with sweat- and speaking of  _ glass.  _ They still have wine. They still have food. 

Chris grabs one of the pieces of angel food cake and strawberry and leans forward, keeping his other arm locked around Seb’s waist so he doesn’t fall, and pushes it between his pornographic, fantasy-inspiring lips in what seems like one second, one breath. He grabs Sebastian’s chin roughly then, whispering jaggedly, “don’t swallow it until I tell you to cum.” Sebastian keens, obeying. And he finds himself tapping his cheek a bit like he might pat a dog on the head after telling them to stay in, deviously enjoying the obvious trouble Sebastian has in continuing to be good. To follow his rules. Squirming in his lap, whimpering behind the treat locked between his teeth, his eyes rolling back in his head. Chris pulls out the toothpick from the dessert in one smooth movement, his cock throbbing awfully painfully in his pants when Sebastian swallows thickly around the treat, noises bubbling up from his half open mouth, wetting the food and his lips with his drool.

He sits himself back up, his shirt sticking to his sweaty back, the couch taking his weight easily. He tosses the toothpick in the general direction of the plate. 

And he uses that hand to apply what he’s learned is the perfect amount of pressure against Sebastian’s straining erection, loving every little, muffled, pathetic sound he makes as a result. All of them are high and clearly very panicked- he’s got to be  _ so  _ close to losing it. He has to be. Chris  _ itches _ darkly to test and threaten his limit, wanting to make him  _ so  _ desperate. He sounds pretty desperate now though. The frantic tears gathering in his eyes and eyelashes, somehow not yet spilled, tell him that. As do the new lines of drool from the corners of his mouth to his jaw. 

Continuing to support Sebastian’s back with his other hand, he keeps expertly massaging Sebastian’s cock, watching the gorgeous, deepening arch of his back as he tries to push into the friction and the erotic heaving of his chest as he tries to get enough oxygen. He pulls the plug. Gripping Sebastian  _ tight  _ through his jeans and forcing his hips forward into his hold again and again and  _ again.  _ Playing him perfectly as he sits literally in his palms.    


_ “Cum, Sebastian. Right now.”  _

Sebastian’s eyes instantly squeeze shut, forcing all those neatly kept tears from his shimmering eyes. Pouring down his flushed cheeks. Messing his pretty face up- making him look almost sloppy but definitely well-used, especially with how swollen his lips are. Drool messes up his jaw and chin and threatens to do the same to his neck with just the same superheated liquid glass look. Sebastian’s throat contracts indecently in the next moment, swallowing the treat that was keeping his greedy mouth busy, and for a second Chris regrets his decision because what was clearly going to be the most  _ gorgeous,  _ debauched noise  _ ever  _ slides right down his throat with it. Never to be heard again… or until they do this _ again.  _

His hips ungulate forward wildly, seeking more of the perfect press of his palm against his cock. His cock twitches just as much as his hips, spilling and spilling into his underwear. Staining and ruining them,  _ defiling  _ them. 

Chris’ own eyes flutter shut when he  _ feels  _ him reach his peak. The wet spot in his jeans growing and widening under his palm, the wet heat increasing just the tiniest bit, just enough to be noticeable. He imagines the amount of cum that would’ve spilled into from him because he’s so fucking  _ gone  _ for Sebastian that even  _ that  _ makes him burn hotter. Makes him twitch again. Makes him leak more. Makes him, without even thinking, take his hand away from Sebastian - who’s coming back down enough to barely have started making those too much, too soon, over sensitive noises - and push against himself. 

Groaning with all of his fucking soul as he palms Sebastian’s back and himself, swearing and gasping. Moaning too. Hitting his peak embarrassingly quickly. Heat building and building and  **breaking.** His vision whiting out so suddenly that he doesn’t even process that he’s cumming or that he has cum until he finds himself panting and leaning fully back into the couch, his underwear wet… well, wetter. His hand limp against his softening cock and his other barely hovering against Sebastian’s sweat soaked back. Thankfully the coffee table is doing all of the work for Sebastian because he looks about as limp as he possibly could be. Fucked-out. 

_ Fuck indeed,  _ he thinks, chuckling to himself. His brain is still gone with the wind and possibly dripping out of his ears. 

He sighs. Leans his head all the way back. He fills his lungs slowly and empties them slowly, enjoying the golden and white glow of his post-orgasm state for another second before moving. Carefully checking in with his warm taffy like stretched limbs. Steadying himself and then Sebastian. Pulling him first up from resting melted against the table to against his chest and then pulling both of them to be horizontal instead of vertical, resting against the couch. 

Chris sighs, smiling tiredly - bathing in the good kind of exhaustion - listening to Sebastian’s pretty, sleepy sounds. Orgasms seem to take a lot more out of him than they do from the average person,  _ maybe it’s a submissive thing,  _ he thinks, mind blurry.  _ More research required for sure.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a tease for those of you who have made it this far: the last two chapters are going to be... very interesting. Very full of discovery and sex and oral fixation shit and just everything you came here for. Prepare yourselves.


	4. During

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three days after Chris stumbles his way into Sebastian's favorite sexual dynamic they both feel comfortable enough to actually go into a premeditated scene. This has some of those conversations that get them comfortable and that scene. 15k of conversations about sex and sex- to be blunt.

_ Chris  _

In the morning it’s agreed upon not doing anything else directly involving dom/sub dynamics until Chris can do more research in general and more conversing with Sebastian directly. He doesn’t want to hurt Sebastian accidentally because he doesn’t know any limits he has or otherwise and he knows that Sebastian understands that, besides Sebastian also agrees that he probably should brush up on what he knows he’s into and what of that he’d like with him. So they’re both researching in some form. Both at the same time, sitting next to each other or just in the same room, both typing away or reading from their laptops, and just generally when they think of it. 

_ “Hey, Sebastian?”  _

_ “Yeah?”  _

_ “Do you have a safeword that you’ve used before that you wanna use? Or should we just make up a new one?” _

_ “I… the traffic light system has worked pretty good, uhh, before.”  _

_ “Mmm.” _

_ “Do you-? Have you come across that yet?”  _

_ “Yeah, just thinkin'. Red means stop, yellow means you’re not sure or you’d like to slow down, green means keep going… right?” _

_ “Mmm hmm.”  _

_ “Do you want another safeword in addition to that? Like a full- full…” _

_ “Full stop word.”  _

_ “Yeah! I couldn’t think of the rest of it for some reason.”  _

_ “Do  _ you  _ want a full stop word?”  _

_ “I- I don’t know? If that’s what you want then I’m all for it but… what’s the difference between red and, like, I don’t know, ‘table’?” _

_ “Table?”  _

_ “Hey! It’s what’s in front of me, it’s all I had.”  _

_ “Yeah- I mean, I’ve had full stop words in addition to the traffic light system but… it’s not like I ever used it.”  _

_ “Just red then? For simplicity's sake?”  _

_ “Yes. Please.”  _

_ “Aww, lookit you, using your manners.”  _

_ “You said your mouth thing comes in with submission, yeah?”  _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Is there a word for it so I can look it up?”  _

_ “I mean- I don’t think they’ll be anything out there? But? I guess? I have an oral fixation but… it’s not sexual for most people.”  _

_ “Orallll fixation…”  _

_ “Yeah.”  _

_ “Well, lucky us because I happen to like your mouth and you’ve just given me an excuse to exploit that.” _

_ “Ugh. You’re impossible.”  _

_ “You complaining?”  _

_ “No! I-” “…I would like that.” _

_ “If… iffff? If we’re in a scene- and, like, if…”  _

_ “What?”  _

_ “I- words… are hard.”  _

_ “Yeah, sometimes, but, what do you want to know? You said something about ‘if we’re in a scene’?”  _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “You’re blushingggg!”  _

_ “I- I am not!”  _

_ “You are. It’s-” _

_ “Now you’re blushing! Ha! We’re even.” “...what were you gonna say?”  _

_ “Oh- uhh, I was gonna say that you’re, just, like, really handsome.”  _

_ “You’re not so bad yourself there, pretty boy.” _

_ “Shuttup.”  _

_ “Nope.”  _

_ “What were  _ you  _ gonna say? About being in a scene, y’know?” _

_ “Is there- what, what do you want to call me? What do you want me to call you? I- I’ve seen, well, there’s just a lot out there and I don’t know, I’ve already said it a thousand times but what gets you going is good for me so…”  _

_ “Are you asking me if I want formals or not?”  _

_ “Formals?”  _

_ “Yeah, like, a formal name. Dom and Sub are both formals… as are the other’s I’m sure you’ve come across.”  _

_ “Like daddy.”  _

_ “So now you can be blunt, huh?”  _

_ “Yep.” “But, really, what do you want, Seb? With formals.”  _

_ “I like formals… I just…”  _

_ “Don’t gimme that look. You just wanna hear that getting you off is what gets me off again. …there I said it again. Turning you on turns me on.”  _

_ “I- I, yeah. I-”  _

_ “You’re blushing again.”  _

_ “Chris!”  _

_ “What?”  _

_ “Ugh, you’re terrible.” “Okay! Okay! Stop kissing me so I can breathe!” _

_ “If that’s what you want…”  _

_ “Again. Terrible.” “I- I like formals. When I started getting into subbing I was just doing it with female doms, y’know?”  _

_ “Yeah, you’ve mentioned it.”  _

_ “Yeah… yeah. ‘Mommy’ never really did it for me for whatever reason so I ended up just going with ‘Mistress’ and, well, I  _ thought  _ that even though Mommy wasn’t it for me that ‘Daddy’ did work but… uhh, I, uhh tried using ‘Sir’ once a couple years ago and. Yeah. It, uhh, stuck.”  _

_ “...oh.”  _

_ “What? We can use ‘Daddy’ if you like that better! I don’t hate it or anything, I-”  _

_ “Sebastian.”  _

_ “What?” _

_ “C’mere for a second”  _

_ “Chr- mmmmm” _

_ “I was thinking about using Sir before but…”  _

_ “You didn’t think it would be what I wanted?”  _

_ “Well. I mean- you’re just  _ so  _ good and… you, like, really like it when I take care of you I know, so I just figured that it’d be a little too cold for you.”  _

_ “Cold?” _

_ “Yeah- a lot of websites and forums and stuff usually divide the titles because Daddy is really, like, nurturing but Sir is more… not that? Y’know?”  _

_ “Hmm. I, I- I’ve heard that before too. I just… there’s too much exposure of daddy kinks for me to actually find it as appealing as using Sir I guess.”  _

_ “Yeah… I think that’s probably it for me too. And it doesn’t help that the only thing I picture is, like, a very petite woman taking a pornstar and fake moaning.”  _

“Chris!” 

_ “Huh?”  _

_ “I- jesus!”  _

_ “What? You can’t tell me you at least  _ tried  _ to jerk off to normal straight porn at least once.”  _

_ “Is subbing just during sex for you? Or- no. That’s not what I meant. Is subbing just something that’s always sexual for you? Like, yesterday, we stumbled into it as foreplay y’know, so it was leading up to sex. Is that how it has to be..? I don’t know what I’m asking I guess.”  _

_ “Um, y’know, it has been in the past. But, I’ve never had an actual real life relationship with a my dom so I’ve never had a chance for it not to be just part of sex?”  _

_ “So… when we have a scene, unless I ask otherwise before and you agree, you always want me to, like, get you off?”  _

_ “Yeah, yeah. Please.”  _

_ “Oh, I feel dumb.” _

_ “Is there a reason? " "Chris?”  _

_ “Yeah! I just came across this article talking about doms differing experiences with domspace or topspace, like, if they get anything like their subs or bottoms get from it and, I didn’t even  _ ask  _ you. Do you go into subspace? I assumed but…”  _

_ “Wait? You assumed?”  _

_ “Yeah, I did, I’m sorry.” _

_ “I’m not mad, Chris, I’m curious. What do- what did you think?” _

_ “I assumed you at least, like, could get there. I mean… I was reading some other things before and they all kinda said the same thing. The person will look a little like they’re out of sorts… kinda spacey, that the person probably will feel like they’re floating or flying. Sparkling was a word that came up a couple of times… you… ah, you looked kind like that at a couple of points. You looked like you were having a good time.”  _

_ “Ah.”  _

_ “In a good way, Seb! I swear, you, you looked really good. You always look good! But, you- you looked, uhh, sparkly. …that is, weirdly, a good word for it.” _

_ “Sparkly?”  _

_ “Your eyes get kinda hazy too, like, you’re still responsive but like you look… uhh. Really beautiful. And, like, I know you lose your words some. Which was a thing too. That was mentioned.”  _

_ “Oh my god!”  _

_ “Sorry.”  _

_ “No. I just… I’ve never… no one’s ever… nevermind. I, yeah, I can get into subspace. Uhh, I’m pretty easy to send there.”  _

_ “Really!?”  _

_ “Yeah? Is that-”  _

_ “Not bad! If that’s what you were gonna say. I. I like that. That you’re responsive. I- I liked seeing it.” _

_ “You didn’t see much of it…”  _

_ “Really?”  _

_ “Yeah, I mean, I loved,  _ loved,  _ all of what we did but. It’s, uh, easier for me to go with more.” _

_ “More?”  _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “Like- more rules to follow? More established limits? Or, oh! We- formals. Would using formals help get you there? Or more praise- I know you like that. More, well, I was gonna say more naked because you’ve stupefied me but, like, less clothes. Would that help.”  _

_ “Yes. To, y’know, all that. …Maybe not all at once all of the time but yeah. The more chances I get to be around a dom usually helps too, getting to build up all that trust and regular rules and stuff.”  _

_ “Okay, noted, do you always get into subspace with submitting?”  _

_ “Not, like, every time. Not fully at least because there’s, like, almost different levels to it? But even if I don’t get there it’s still usually good. Really good. And, I mean- well, nevermind.”  _

_ “Hey, no, I wanna hear what you have to say about this. Anything you have to say, I wanna hear. The more direction you give me now the better I’ll be later.”  _

_ “I was just gonna think out loud for a second. The longer I know a dom generally the easier I go into subspace and the longer I spend there, y’know? …yeah. And then when I’ve known a dom for enough time and have gotten comfortable and more trusting of them usually that’s when I’ll go into subspace every time but…”  _

_ “But?”  _

_ “I’ve never gone down the first time I spent a scene with a dom.”  _

_ “Huh?”  _

_ “You’re right. You could read me well enough to know that I went into subspace after dinner. I also kind of did once before… Chris. You sent me under with the wining and dining and then, just getting me into your lap like that. That sent me under. Not very far but it did. Which… I don’t ever go under for the first time. Ever. Usually it takes a couple of tries and, no offence, but that even happens with experienced doms for me, it’s just, like, how I’m wired. I’ve never-”  _

_ “Oh.”  _

_ “Yeah.” “I’m just not sure if that’ll still be true for me when we really get into this. I don’t know if I will not just go down every time with you. I don’t know if you just won’t make me go pretty much all the way into subspace when we play with these dynamics. You, like, do something to me.”  _

_ “Oh, god, do I know what you mean. You make me crazy, Seb.”  _

_ “Yeah?”  _

_ “Yeah, you’ve got no idea. But, um, yeah. I, I could live with sending you to subspace every time. I don’t think I  _ could  _ get tired of it.”  _

_ “Oh. Um, thanks. I think? I’m glad you uhh, like seeing me like th-that.”  _

_ “You’re welcome.”  _

It takes exactly three days to sort through their wants, needs, questions, and everything in between, in the end they just say  _ fuck it  _ and Chris makes a google document for them to share. Organizing everything into a list of sorts. The document consists of everything from safewords and hard limits to things that they would be perfectly fine with doing every time they share a scene or that they might  _ want  _ to always do. It’s weirdly not embarrassing at all, it doesn’t come close to touching the mortification that Chris thought it would drip with. 

And it’s not not embarrassing just because they match each other in wants and needs pretty much exactly (if you ignore all the things that Chris has no experience with but that he would be  _ more _ than fine with exploring). There’s something else that makes it more liberating than embarrassing, if Chris had to narrow the valley down to a sidewalk crack he would say it’s because he’s never known anyone’s sexual preferences so well before even “really” sleeping with them. 

It’s almost like he’s got a roadmap on how to drive Sebastian crazy in bed, or wherever they decide to take this. It’s wonderful. 

And he’s going to use it to his fucking advantage because Sebastian  _ did  _ say that he doesn’t just not mind being forced to tears through sex but that he  _ craves  _ it, he likes being pushed because his dom wants to see him stretch as far as he can and he wants to be good for them. Chris does  _ not _ want to wait the months and months and possibly even entire year or so that it normally would take him to so fully understand how someone works sexually and then be able to push them to their edge. He wants it as soon as possible. 

He never wants to break up with Sebastian, never. So he’s not thinking about doing this with anyone else ever - he loves Sebastian too much to think about it - but he’s thinking about why the hell this isn’t common practice? Having blunt but deeply erotic conversations about everything do to with sex- the kind that make you want to squirm and pull the other person on top of you to start making out but also make you want to squirm because of how kind of… clinical? it seems, using such blunt language rather than, like, dirty talk to about sex. It definitely feels like something that would’ve made all of his previous sexual relationships a million times better. It’s something that he, if given the chance, would tell his younger self for sure. Not for better sex overall but… he could’ve been doing  _ this  _ with Sebastian as soon as they started seeing each other? Dry humping and driving each other insane is fun and he wouldn’t change it for the world but the haze that glazes Sebastian’s eyes is completely unique. He’s never seen anything like it. 

Which is dangerous. Very dangerous- he’s not sure what he would do to see it again but he knows it’s a lot. 

For example, when he really just wants to jump Sebastian and get into another scene he’s going to have another conversation with him instead. Well. Before. 

“Seb?” 

“Yeah,” he looks up from where he’s tearing through another novel, lips twitching into a smile like they have every time he’s called to him since being here with him. It’s been four days so far- Chris would’ve thought that by now it would’ve faded and it hasn’t. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking  _ way  _ too hard to put together a sentence that’s not  _ what’s the first thing you want me to do to take you apart.  _ He tries for something more subtle but just as direct, “is there anything you wanted specifically to do in a scene that we should start with?” That’s also something they’ve had conversations about. Their first official scene. It’s looming over Chris’ head like a cloud, a cloud that ensures that he’s hard every time he’s reminded of the fact that it is the thing above him casting a shadow for his feet to be pooled in. 

Sebastian makes a sweet humming noise in the back of his throat, carefully folding the top of the page that he was reading. Laying it flat to crease the page before shutting it. The pretty, lithe length of his fingers making the simple gesture look elegant and choreographed. “Mm, not really.” 

“Not really?” He parrots, that’s not a no and it’s not a yes. 

Sebastian cheeks flush, the stain of pink spreading over his cheeks and nose, he brings a hand up and drops it. Apparently thinking better of covering his face. Letting his hands lie over the book he’s set in his lap. “I, I do have things I like better than others,” he says slowly, ducking his head and looking up at him. Chris feels a couple of different things flutter inside of him. Arousal, affection, and some nameless things that he’s only felt in big quantities in regards to Sebastian. “And you, y’know, know about those things…” he trails off. 

“I do,” he offers. Trying to kickstart Sebastian back into explaining, sensing that there’s something he wants to say that he won’t unless it’s pulled out of him.

“I want you to choose.” His face is wearing an expression that says he might just pull one of his hands back up to smack his palm over his mouth. Like the words have just fallen out of his mouth without his consent. He’s so fucking cute. 

“You want me to choose what we do for the first scene?” 

“Please,” Seb whispers, leaning forward slightly. 

_ There he fucking goes again,  _ Chris thinks, helplessly. Every time Sebastian says ‘ _ please’  _ like it’s  _ nothing  _ Chris ends up on the floor or on the ceiling, always thinking about praising him because he’s just so endlessly good and sweet that it makes his jaw ache, his teeth full with cavities. He sighs- in a good way. The air just needs to leave his body in such a way but it’s because it’s been pushed out of him as his chest fills with adoration. 

Still, he needs to clarify, “you trust me enough to choose? I know that most of the time it is the dom that chooses the scene, at least with the way you want things to go, but… for this first time?” 

Sebastian resets his body, stretching out to set his novel aside on the coffee table, putting his hands behind him on the arm of the couch to support himself, and unfolding his legs so he can stretch them out. Setting his feet in his lap. Chris instantly finds his hands resting on his ankles. Palms magnetized to his skin. He rubs his thumbs back and forth along his skin, feeling the surprisingly soft sensation of his ankles under his hand, breathing in and out meditatively, waiting for him to find his words. His hands get put back in his lap, he’s gazing calmly at him. The blush brought on earlier hasn’t yet worn away, “I trust you to choose.” His voice is soft, quiet. “I want to try everything with you-” a little chuckle bursts through his sentence, breaking it in half, “I honestly don’t know what I want to try first anyway.” 

His mind is already working a million miles an hour. He can choose. He can. He knows he can. 

He’s already got half of a plan formed in his head which he didn’t think he did but now that he’s aware of it…  _ yeah.  _ He knows what Sebastian likes. He knows what he likes and what he wants to try both because he’s interested and because Seb likes it.

He opens his mouth with his decision, turning to look at Sebastian, becoming aware of his own body rather than just being in his mind again. He’s massaging Seb’s calves and ankles. 

“Don’t!” Sebastian looks at him, determined steel in his eyes, spooking him out of his thoughts because that was exactly the timing that a mind reader would have. Chris shuts his mouth, furrowing his brow at Sebastian, doing as he says but confused about it. “I don’t want you to tell me,” he adds, his blush returning with added troops, coming back even worse than the first time, “not yet. I- I like having the surprise. I don’t wanna know what you’re gonna do to me, not yet. And… I just, I haven’t seen a dom in long time. I- I think I need you to choose.” 

Chris feels the waves of heat that must be causing Sebastian’s blush rush over his skin, heating his blood and nerves. Revving him up a little. Making him want to do Sebastian right. He swallows, watching as Sebastian licks his lips and breathes a little funny. His lungs caught between sucking in as much oxygen as they can hold and between contracting and releasing as often as they can. His eyes shoot from Sebastian to the clock, his heart is beating fast, like he’s just finished a workout. 

It’s only three p.m.

Chris knows that Sebastian prefers to do pre-meditated scenes that aren’t going to be an all day thing in the evening because they tire him out quite a bit and unless he gets to sleep the last embers of subspace off he’ll probably be a little  _ “weird”  _ (his word not Chris’) for the rest of the day. Plus, it’s what he’s used to and doing scenes in the morning throws off his internal clock. Which is good for him too, usually he’s had sex with his partners pretty much right before bed all of the time unless it’s a spur of the moment I really, really can’t wait. Or first thing in the morning but… yeah. He doesn’t mind just doing scenes in the evenings  _ (and,  _ his subconscious sings,  _ you like it. You like that the sex you’re going to have with Sebastian is going to tire him out so much that he has to sleep. You like it.)  _

“Tonight?” He blurts out, caught up in his own internal monologue, arousal bubbling under his skin, “I mean-” Sebastian is giggling from the other end of the couch, giggling at him, Chris’ chest fills with bubbles and butterflies and little rainbows and all of that shit that means you’re in love and helpless with it. To keep himself from just blurting out something as dumb as ‘I love you’ right then and there Chris digs his fingers into Sebastian’s foot because it’s  _ right there  _ and he’s the one who’s decided to make himself vulnerable by not wearing any socks around his house. 

Sebastian  _ shrieks,  _ laughter helplessly flowing from him as Chris grabs his ankle while continuing his assault of tickles, making sure he can’t get away from him. Sebastian thrashes under him, not really trying to fight back, more just reacting how his body is telling him. Jerking his knee up because he fucking wants his foot back from this torture. Curling in on himself like he’s trying to get smaller so he’s not as much of a target, turning onto his side like that’s going to save him. Laughing and trying to breathe at the same time, choking on some of his giggles. Grabbing his own sides for support, his shoulders shaking with the heavy waves of his laughter. Smiling wide and shutting his eyes tight, his nose scrunching up in that gloriously cute way that he’s got. 

“To-” he breaks apart into more giggles, falling into something of hysterics, “toni-AH!” 

“Hmm? What was that?” He deadpans, pretending that he’s not guilty of his crimes. 

“TONIGHT AH! HAHAA-” he curls onto his side, wheezing, “IS. AHHA! GOOOOD.” 

Chris stops tickling and instead lifts his leg up far enough that it earns him a suspicious look from the other, adorably ruffled, man. He doesn’t attack the underside of his knee though, like Sebastian suspects him of possibly doing. He kisses the inside of his ankle instead, setting his leg back down onto his lap like nothing happened. Sebastian breathes out a last round of residual laughter, his eyes bright, smiling widely into the couch as he tries to bury his face in the cushions. 

Chris pats his thigh, “okay.” Sebastian laughs cradling his stomach in his arms and trying to shake his head, despite the fact that he’s resting his cheek on the sofa. Sebastian flips him off and it’s his turn to laugh so hard that he can’t talk.

Sebastian was laying back on the bed, propped up on a couple of stacked pillows so he could see the screen because he was watching something on TV (Chris had been trying to watch it with him but really he was watching Seb, as usual). 

Or that was what was happening when Chris left to go put Dodger downstairs. Using his doggy gate to bar him to the first floor of the house, checking to make sure that anything consumable has been stashed away, that his doggy door is open so he can go outside if he needs to pee, that the doors were shut and locked otherwise, and that he’s got enough water, he ate when they had. Just overall making sure Dodger couldn’t interrupt what they were about to get into. 

And he’s pretty sure that Sebastian one hundred percent knows that he’s getting Dodger out of the way so they can get into their first, actual scene. Not that he’s going downstairs because he wants to put away the odds and ends of things they had out, turn off lights, start the dishwasher and do the other things that one needs to before getting to bed like he told him. Not that it matters that much, he still did those things and it doesn’t really matter if he does know that he also gave Dodger his own safe space because they both know that they’re going to play tonight. But… it’s just kind of something that Chris wants to do. He wants to make it at least seem like more of a surprise for Sebastian’s sake, just to give him a little more of a thrill. Help him to give over more control to him. 

Chris hums a little with his thoughts, he’s looking forward to domming Sebastian a hell of a lot more than he thought he would be. He assumed the whole time he would be shaky with wanting to make sure everything is good and what he needs but now that the time has come he’s… he’s feeling like it’s something that he’s been needing to. He is nervous, but, not near the level that he thought he would be. Maybe this is just the one thing that his control-freak nature can be put towards productively. 

He moves from the hallway to the doorway of his bedroom, quiet in his approach because that seems to fit the mood, taking a moment to breathe and just look at Sebastian. Check him over. 

He’s where he left him. His breathing steady and even, legs stretched comfortably in front of him, crossed at the ankle, one of his arms crossed over his body, the other lying out to the side like he’s hasn’t even moved since he left, waiting for him to come back and hold his hand some more. At the least he’s doing a good job of playing into his own surprise, Sebastian is one of the most intelligent people he’s ever met. Quick with wit and people and numbers. He’s not forgotten about this- about the fact that he’s agreed to completely give himself over. And he’s not not noticed that it’s well into the evening by now. They’ve had dinner, had enough time between dinner and now for chilling, and if they wait any longer it’ll be a little too late to start anything. Now is the time. 

He’s gorgeous, sitting still perfectly, waiting for him.  _ Waiting for instruction-  _ that little part of his consciousness that’s adapted the fastest to this dynamic whispers, causing his lips to curl into a smile that’s just toeing the time of a smirk. 

“Seb,” Chris voices, not loud but not quiet enough to be a full whisper but close enough to set the atmosphere, not waiting for Sebastian to turn and see him before he’s moving either. Gliding across the wooden floor of his bedroom, thinking about nothing but the plans he has for Sebastian and Sebastian himself. 

While he was moved Seb turned himself onto his side, freely moving even though Chris’ time seems to have stopped. 

So when he’s close enough he climbs onto the bed, taking a couple of kneeling steps, and gets himself on top of Sebastian, rolling him back onto his back. Sebastian makes a gasping slash sighing sound at being manhandled but he does nothing to fight him. He just lets him roll him over. Allowing Chris to make him vulnerable, letting him see his throat and tummy. Chris sighs accidentally at the show, enjoying pressing the other man into the bed with his own weight. Setting his hands on either side of his shoulders and leaning over him, watching the fall and retraction of shadows over his picture perfect face as he moves him. Appreciating the sweep of his lashes as he blinks and all the out of place stray hairs that have curled over his forehead in the hours and hours since his shower. Sebastian is so beautiful. 

The blush suddenly creeping up over Seb’s cheeks tells him that he does know what’s coming. He’s just playing dumb, well, not dumb.  _ Innocent.  _ He’s playing  _ innocent.  _ Something inside of Chris drops into a position of attack from it’s prowl, sinking its claws deeper into him, driving him wilder.

“Hey,” Sebastian murmurs softly, looking up at him, trusting with some kind of deep admiration settling in his eyes that Chris can easily, dangerously misread as love, even though it’s too early for him to match his feelings there. 

He kisses the word from his mouth regardless. Wanting to taste him again, not yet used to the fact that he’s allowed to do such a thing whenever he pleases. Lowering himself directly on top of his smaller frame, sandwiching him between his own chest and the bed, sighing into the ease of his mouth. His lips have already fallen lax under his own. Welcoming him in with his complete and utter submission in a way that Chris hadn’t ever thought about finding as hot as he does but… he’s learning not just about Seb with this. He always assumed he wanted his partners to be eager like Seb is but not eager to melt under his touch, eager to participate, pressing back as hard as he pressed them. The intoxicating fire coursing through him begs a differ to those assumed preferences. The twitch of his suddenly swelling cock also raises a fantastic counter argument. 

Sebastian makes a small sound into his mouth, his lips hot and soft against his. Melting. Sounding his agreement and pressing up into him harder, letting Chris know that he can feel the hardening of his cock. He moans, feeling Sebastian too. 

Just for the insanely pliant reaction he’s been gifted with, Chris keeps kissing him for a while longer. Indulging them both- allowing himself to be sucked into his atmosphere, forgetting his own plans for a moment. Letting his tongue slide over his plush lower lip, noting the lack of teeth marks now that they’re around each other enough to nearly constantly be kissing with pleasure.  _ He doesn’t have time to bite his own lip when I’m always doing it for him. _ He shivers, his skin buzzing with arousal, goosebumps arising, humming along with the thumping of his heart. 

Sebastian gasps into his mouth when his thoughts manifest into him biting down on his lower lip. He groans, responding instantly, the most primal parts of him chasing and hunting down the sound, nipping at him again. Making him gasp again. He’s overrun with pleasure, cataloging the noise for later  _ purposes  _ and for adding to the book of reactions he already knows how to pull from him. He does it again - nipping his tongue this time instead though - just because. Sebastian reacts again. Fanning the flames of his desire with the rush of hot air over his lips and being breathed into his own body. Sharing hot, humid, intimate breathes between their lungs. Chris wants to breathe  _ all _ of Sebastian in. He wants to keep him safe and sweet and pliant like this all of the time. The most non-vanilla thing he’s done is light exhibitionism but any urge he might’ve had for wanting to show Sebastian’s sweetness off is crushed under the small little responding sounds Seb keeps making. Chris has never known hunger as sharp and clawing as the kind that demands he keep Sebastian completely to himself. He never wants anyone else to see him like this. It’s too special. 

He pulls away after tuning in to check in with the rest of his body that’s not just screaming for Sebastian, overflowing with arousal already, and finding his lungs in their hopeless fight for oxygen. Keeping them face to face but allowing Sebastian enough room to properly breathe, he props himself up on his elbows. Dragging his eyes down Sebastian’s face, smirking. 

Sebastian gasps against him, his lips gaped with uneven, sharp exhales of air flowing from them, brushing over and through his facial hair. It’s an interesting sensation… it shouldn’t be attractive but it tells him that he’s pressed against Sebastian and so it is all of the sudden. Plus, he’s blushing so hard with arousal and they’re so close together that Chris can feel the heat radiating from his face. It’s priceless. 

He kisses his blood-hot cheek, rasping, “to start I want you to blow me.” Sebastian trembles. His entire body alight with shivers like a match’s flame ripping over the surface of a newspaper. Easily and thoughtlessly. 

He’s so good that he’s already squirming, already trying to move out from underneath him so he can get his mouth on his cock. Moving like he’s going to try and switch their positions on his own. Chris’ own mouth is drying just looking at Sebastian’s, not even trying to think about how good Seb’s mouth will feel and be but doing it anyway. His vivid imagination taking advantage of his fantasies and the reality stretched out in front of him like a fresh kill to a deprived predator. 

Instinctively, to stop Seb from squirming away, he shifts his weight to one arm and uses his other to grab a fist full of Sebastian’s hair. Sebastian freezes, inhaling sharply and moaning at the same time so the sound gets stuck in his throat. Sounding a bit like he’s drowning in the sudden pleasure. His eyes slip shut. Cheeks pinking impossibly darker. Chris finds himself tutting at him and he’s about to apologize for the humiliating treatment until Sebastian starts to. 

“Sorry,” he pants, “sorry, sorry,” he’s whimpering under the words, making them turn watery and woeful, tugging at the undercurrent of arousal flowing freely through him. He thinks, vaguely in some part of his mind, that hearing someone trip over themselves to apologize to you so desperately shouldn’t turn him on like it does. He ignores the passing thought. Domination is turning out to be the slipperiest slope he’s ever been on. “Sorry,” he offers again, full out whining, “I should’ve asked to move first.” 

His heart skips a beat,  _ this fucking kid. So obedient.  _

“Hush,” he coos, petting Sebastian with the limited range of motion that his hand has in the pose that they’re sitting in. Sebastian - ever a kitten - leans into his palm. His breathing already grows more even. Looking less and less tense with every stroke of his fingers through his hair. Something compels him to tell Seb that, “you’re still good.” He whines, the sound taking on a happy note this time, indicating his simmering arousal just as his twitching cock does, “you’re good,” he adds, whispering, craving to feel him twitch against him again. Heady arousal clouding his mind when just those  _ two  _ words influence Seb so strongly. 

His entire universe suddenly stops and starts, revolving around Sebastian’s eyes as he blinks them open. His pupils have doubled in size since he shut them, swelled with lust. He files away the reaction again, recalling how much Sebastian had said that praise affected him but relishing in the proper evidence. Praise is something he needs to use, like, all of the time. He’s already pretty much completely hard because Sebastian is well into being fully hard and they haven’t fucking done anything yet. He’s got no idea how he’s going to last when he actually gets to fucking Sebastian. And,  _ nope, nope, nope-  _ he’s not going to think about the process of fucking Sebastian because he might unravel. 

Chris knows that Sebastian doesn’t want everything revealed to him for the sake of taking away the overwhelming control he has over him but he wants to explain to Sebastian why he did what he did. “I didn’t want you to move because before you get to work,” Seb’s breathing grows heavier at the mere mention of him getting to suck him off.  _ Bless _ his oral fixation and immense need to please. Those two together are, like, the best things. Even though everything about him is the best thing about him. “I want you naked first.” 

Sebastian’s breath hitches and he turns his head so his cheek is pressing into the bed, trying to hide. Nuzzling into the covers like they’ll spontaneously grow around him and keep him from being seen. 

He lets Sebastian turn his head, his hair moving from between his fingers like water. Instead Chris strokes his thumb over his lips, tracing the pretty pout of them, repressing the growl that wants to come out of him when Seb just opens his mouth. Seemingly not even thinking about the motion. Just doing it. He pushes his thumb into Sebastian’s mouth, moaning low when the second his thumb breaches his lips he’s sucking on him. His gut clenches and his cock throbs, the skin of his thumb and palm thinning and absorbing all of Sebastian’s wet heat. He drops his head to the comforter with a groan, taking advantage of Seb having rolled out of the way, hanging his head. Overwhelmed with waves of arousal, viscous and boiling hot. 

“Is that a  _ no  _ or a  _ yes, but I don’t wanna admit it?”  _ Chris asks, forgetting that with his forehead pressed to the bed his lips are perfectly against Seb’s ear. He remembers when Sebastian shivers so hard that it jostles him. He smirks, the movement makes his beard brush his skin and Sebastian shivers more. He’s so fucking turned on that he can barely restrain himself from grinding down onto Sebastian. He wants to feel him twitch more in his sweats, he wants to grind into him until he’s on the edge, until they both are. Then he wants to keep Sebastian there. Just because he knows he’ll stay there for as long as Chris wants him to. He would. He’s good. 

_ “Yes,”  _ Sebastian  _ moans,  _ breathy and high. It’s his turn to shiver. His heart kicks up again. He wants that sound imprinted in his brain forever. A wakeup call for him to get hard at a moments notice whenever he needs to- just that little sound. Desperate and perfect. 

“Good,” he purrs despite himself. Sitting up slowly with the intention to gather himself a little so he doesn’t fucking rip Sebastian’s clothes apart while trying to strip him down and with the intention to not faint on top of him because he’s seriously not sure he’s ever been so hard. Not only is his cock throbbing with arousal, his  _ balls  _ are throbbing. He’s aching for Sebastian’s mouth, his balls readying themselves, feeling swollen and overly sensitive, his body and brain knowing that Sebastian would look downright  _ pornographic  _ with his cum painted over him. His eyes shoot between Seb’s shirt and pants helplessly, trying to figure out what sight he wants more, what article he should take off of him first, when all of his brain power is going towards imagining Sebastian not only _ choking _ and  _ crying _ on his cock but  _ gagging. His lips stretched, red, shiny, and downright abused looking with how well used they are. His cheeks flushed just as hot. His eyes shut but certainly blown dark and wide under his eyelids. Sputtering and gagging as he tries and tries and tries to swallow him down but he  _ can’t. _ He can’t because Chris is so fucking turned on by him that he just keeps cumming, emptying into his mouth until it’s so much that it leaks out of his obscene lips. Running down his chin and jaw.  _

Chris shakes himself with a moan, itching to just fuckin’ put his cock in Sebastian’s mouth and to abandon his fucking plan but he  _ can’t.  _ He can’t because as much as he hungers for Sebastian he’s ravenous for making sure Sebastian gets as much pleasure as he can from this experience. He wants to make it good for him. Above all else. 

He shoves the bottom hem of Seb’s shirt up for no fucking logical, thought out reason. Then he grabs the hem of Seb’s pants with a call of, “let me.” Giving him an order as he peels his sweats from his skin because it’s the first thing that his fingers grabbed onto. His lips meet Sebastian’s hip because without even needing to be told he’s lifting himself up off of the mattress, making sure that he can easily get his pants off of him. He pulls his sweats down to just below the bulge of his cock before his brain lights up with an idea that makes his own painfully erect cock jump in his pants. He grabs the waistband of his tight boxer-briefs between his teeth. Relishing in the wrecked, drawn out moan that it pulls from Sebastian, feeding straight back into his own enjoyment. His pretty cock smacks against his stomach in an ear burning, obscene sound. His abs contracting at the painful-pleasurable feeling. A gasp being punched from his throat. 

Chris is gonna fucking explode before he can even get into Seb’s mouth. For sure. He’s so fucking hot and distracting that it’s downright  _ unfair.  _

He abandons the band of his underwear in his giddy, aroused haste, using his mouth to latch onto the skin above his prominent hip bone instead of the fabric of his clothes, getting pulled into the alluring heat and taste of his skin, sucking with the intent to leave a mark on him as he fumbles to pull his pants down. Sebastian cries out the moment his lips meet his skin, pushing his hips into his mouth with an impulsive, sharp moment. His dark, visibly throbbing cock slaps against his stomach once more. Chris can’t get him out of his pants anymore without bending over and he will… in a second. He’s just gotta-

He drags his teeth over the delicate skin under his mouth, enjoying every little reaction he pulls from him. For example, with another nip Sebastian moans wordlessly yet again but then swears with his desire,  _ “fuck!”  _ His voice already sounds destroyed. Chris can tell by the way his fingers are digging into the sheets that he wants to reach down and pull at his hair but - other than the lifting of his hips - he won’t move. He’s _ so _ good. Drowning in want and still obeying him just because it’s  _ him.  _ Sparks of harshly burning fire drips down his spine, lighting up more and more nerves as it goes. Heat pools over his lower back before coiling into his stomach, driving him even  _ more _ crazy with want. He laps at his skin, apologizing for the harsh bite of his teeth, relishing in the taste of  _ Sebastian  _ while he does it. And relishing in the way that with just a hand on his other hip, not pressing down in any way, he’s staying still with the mere threat of a bond. Chris has to put out that fire immediately- Sebastian did say that he’s okay with, and loves, being tied down but… if he thinks about  _ that  _ right now. Then he has no hope at all. 

Sebastian curses some more when he bites him again- just for good measure. To make sure the hickey stays around for a while. He barely restrains from commenting on how  _ dirty  _ Sebastian’s mouth is but the comment echoes through his head still. And so he has to hump down into the mattress twice, moaning into Seb’s flushed, sweaty hip. Indulging himself. Feeling himself impossibly harden more, more heat suffocating him, dripping into his stomach and ensnaring his cock.  _ God.  _ He’s probably started leaking too. 

But then he pulls away, pulling his head from resting under the surface of his pooling lust. He’s panting, as is Sebastian. Sebastian’s skin is shimmering with a fresh layer of sweat, a little dripple of pre-cum wetting the tip of his cock and more wetting the trembling surface of his stomach. 

_ “God,” _ he whispers, looking down. Forcing his goddamn tongue to stay in his mouth, biting the inside of his cheek, because he should really be having Sebastian suck him right now and not go diving forward to lick Seb clean. Instead, with a hand on either of his hips, keeping him in place, he says, “you really do fuckin’ like this.” The words coming out dripping in awe. He can’t help himself. 

_ “Yes, sir.” _ Sebastian answers his rhetorical question hazily, sounding a little like he’s dreaming, not really paying attention to anything other than the authority in his voice. Chris’ pulse pounds-  _ he’s already making his way to subspace. _ Chris pushes his finger into the mark he’s just made automatically, his eyes widening with the goosebumps that he  _ watches  _ spread over his skin just at the fingerprint’s worth of pressure.  _ Jesus.  _

He pulls Sebastian’s pants and underwear from midthigh down to his ankles, kissing each in turn as he rids them of the garments, leaving his bottom half bare while his shirt is carelessly rucked up almost to his nipples. Leaving him wreck and debauched looking. His chest tightens, blood thickening further, licking his lips and immensely enjoying all the pale golden skin on display for him and  _ him alone.  _   


His shirt is next to come off though. Of course. And it’s a stupidly arousing adventure because Sebastian is already slipping under enough to need help with it, taking his want for him not to move to the best extreme, mewling and grabbing onto him as he coaxes him to sit up right. Chris pulls his shirt over his head once he gets him upright, soaking in the melted heat of their chests pressed together. Feeling Sebastian’s heart race under his feverish skin. Sebastian runs his fingers over his shoulders and biceps as he lets him strip him, murmuring something that sounds like an awed, slow, melty version of  _ “ssssir”  _ under his breath. In any other context, like if he were drunk and not slipping into subspace it would be funny. Having him so out of his mind that he openly palms and drools over his muscles. But it’s not funny. Carnal desire thunders under his skin. Barely contained. 

He slowly lowers Sebastian back onto the bed, everything inside him pouring over Sebastian. His heart melting from love and heat. Wanting to cradle him and wreck him in equal parts. Trying not to think about how much trust he  _ must  _ have in him to allow him to do this because if he thinks about it too hard he’s gonna start crying and that's not what he wants to happen here. He wants to drive Sebastian wild and make him come back for it again and again, he wants to see him wanting for pleasure from him. He wants Sebastian to ask for it, he wants to see Sebastian curl into his lap and beg for him to get him off because he’s the only one who can please him the way he needs it. He wants that. He brushes his fingers down Sebastian’s bare chest, pausing to tweak his nipples into hard points, listening to his breathy noises of pleasure. Watching him melt, watching his cock drip more and more onto the smooth planes of his stomach. And then he realizes-

Sebastian is naked in  _ his _ bed.

And he has to fucking cup himself through his jeans, squeezing his cock because it’s all he can do, panting and  _ looking.  _

Sebastian is naked in his bed and he has permission to do whatever he wants to him because Sebastian will let him know if he’s not having a good time. He has his safewords. But. But Chris also knows what he likes. He knows what Sebastian wants from him and it’s all he wants to give it to him. 

Holding himself together by a thread - that thread being the hand squeezing his cock through his pants because he’s  _ still fucking wearing his pants _ in a death grip - trying not to just fucking cum because Sebastian is the  _ sweetest; _ his muscles loose, lips lax and speech beginning to slur around the edges, his eyes already hazy, body looking like  _ that,  _ and just  _ waiting  _ to be told what to do and to do it. Lying back against his bed, still and meditative if not for his weeping, occasionally twitching cock and his deeply flushed face, neck, and chest. 

“You’re gonna suck me off now, okay baby?” He hushes, just feathering touches down his neck and chest. 

Sebastian nods after a moment. Almost sleepily, moving in gorgeous slow motion, looking up at him with watery eyes. Eyes dark and wide. Doll-like almost. Chris’ cock twitches in response to his dark, wet eyes- a far away look in them but also a sense of urgency, of being right here, in the now, settling under the submissive haze there. Sebastian’s lips part just the slightest bit in preparation, Chris knows he’s not going to ask him a question. He’s just ready. Ready and wanting. 

Originally he was going to keep Sebastian pinned to the bed, supported by the reassuring mattress. He was going to slide himself in and out of Sebastian’s wet dream of a mouth. But now he needs to give himself a tiny breather and prep talk. He needs some space to not fucking bust the second Sebastian gets his mouth on him and  _ oh my god,  _ he cannot imagine for another second how that would go down with Sebastian-  _ he’d stare up at him with those big eyes, watery and shimmering with tears now. Not satisfied with the build up leading to sucking him off just for Chris accidentally cumming over his face and not down his throat. Cum painting his pretty face, dripping down his cheeks and lashes, claiming him as Chris’. Almost none of him in his mouth because he was just getting started, kitten licking his shaft, nosing the base of his cock, breathing him in. Checking him out. And he lost it because he can’t help himself. And now his submissive is going to cry because he wanted something in his mouth, stretching his jaw and filling his throat and he didn’t get it. Shaky with an unsatisfied oral fixation.  _

Chris quickly catches up to himself. Still throbbing and leaking. He swallows his groan of frustration at himself and kisses Sebastian sweetly to distract himself. 

Pulling back and flipping them over. Sebastian squeaks at the neatly executed flip, digging his fingers into his biceps and landing on his chest, his eyes shocking clearer at the sudden movement and surprise, lips falling open wider. Cheeks just as red. Chris finds himself chuckling, holding Sebastian’s pretty dimpled chin in his hand, soothing him for a moment. Letting him sink right back down easily, knowing he’s never seen anything as beautiful. After a moment he’s in just as deep and Chris can feel him harden right back up, fattening up against him from the show of strength the moment he understands what happened.

“There you go,” he coos, watching Sebastian’s light up under the little bit of praise, taking his breath away. Sebastian’s hands curls into his chest, accidentally or purposefully plucking at his shirt. Reminding him that he also needs to get naked. “I want you between my legs, Seb,” he tells him, not because he’s not going to move him there but because he deserves to know what’s happening. 

Sebastian settles between his thighs like a dream, naturally looking up at him, dreamily, and pawing at his waistband. Clearly asking for what he wants. Chris throbs in his jeans, naked with his desire- wearing it on his sleeve like all of his other emotions. Sebastian whimpers, feeling him move right under his palm and squirming with it. His bare skin bulging with his pretty muscles, restless and needy. His perky ass moving down into the cushion of the mattress at the same moment that he thinks better of it, knowing he wasn’t told to do that, jerking forward and back and moaning. Agonized by his own doing. 

“Get me out,” he rasps. Done with waiting. 

He doesn’t wait for Sebastian to start moving, he trusts and knows that he’s going to do exactly as he urges, rather than waiting he reaches for the hem of his shirt. Grabbing the back of his collar and ridding himself of his shirt. Throwing it off to the side and reaching for the pillow on the other side of the bed, propping himself more comfortably up against the headboard. 

Sebastian, whose trembling hands have gotten his button undone and his zipper pulled down, now holding the two tabs of his jeans open, stares up at him dumbly. He whimpers in the back of his throat. His eyes shooting from one place to the next, trying to look at every inch of all the skin he’s revealed. Chris shivers under the unadulterated heat and  _ want  _ in his gaze. His breathing stuttering, chest tightening. 

He reaches for Sebastian’s chin again, finding that he enjoys the way it makes Sebastian look even younger and more innocent somehow. He has to tap his cheek to get him to look him in the eyes and he  _ so  _ is going to tease him about it later. When he’s not floating. But for now he absorbs the feeling of being so hotly wanted and desirable, it’s not that he doesn’t feel that (he knows how the internet feels about him) but it’s different coming from Sebastian of course. It gives him a rush of power and arousal with Sebastian. Knowing he’s turning Sebastian on so, so much. 

When his dreamy, dark eyes reach his Chris rasps, “you can touch me,” Sebastian makes a barely audible but purely hungry noise and Chris momentarily forgets to keep talking.  _ “But,”  _ he adds, chuckling with the way Seb’s eyes widen, “your main job is to get me off right now, okay?” 

Sebastian nods and as if sensing his hesitation about the ongoing lack of verbal agreement he swallows, clumsily shaping, “ggreen” after a moment. 

“Good boy,” he praises him. Sebastian shutters. He takes his hand from his jaw and uses both of his hands to relieve Sebastian of the task of taking him out of his underwear. Shoving the waistband under his balls so Sebastian can do as he pleases while he keeps his mouth busy. He was right. He started leaking. The head of his cock is a deep, dark red, glistening with his spilling over desire. 

Sebastian’s lips fall open into a hungry ‘o’ and he sways forward, his lips barely coming into contact with the head before Chris’ hand cards through his hair. And pulls him back. Using his grip like a leash on him. 

Seb whines, nearly drooling, his lips still in the perfect shape for blowing him.

Chris smirks at him, his blood throbbing and thickening, his cock is beginning to hurt. He’s  _ so  _ hard. “Oh, and, I don’t mind if you need to hump the mattress.” Sebastian leans his head back further like he’s trying to show him his throat. He’s whimpering quietly. Shaking still. His blush overtaking his pretty face. “You’ve told me how you get with your mouth. I understand, baby,” Seb looks like he might cry. The fire under Chris’ skin only grows, fed by his desperation as if it’s oxygen fanning the flames. His cock is aching now. “But. If you need to cum you have to tell me. I’m in charge of that.” 

He asserts and Sebastian moans, loud and unabashed, giving up on arching his neck to take away the sting from his scalp and just hangs his head. His neck lolling forward, helplessly. His hips jolting forward with the shock of pain that no doubt cuts through him at the added tug on his hair because Chris didn’t move his hand. He just let him make it worse for himself. Sebastian chokes on another needy, high sound. 

He lets his grip on his hair relax.

Sebastian falls face first into his crotch, over-eager, panting, and moaning a little, all the fight and sass that usually is in him gone. Replaced with agonizingly sweet and sexy submission. Giving himself entirely over to what nature demands he do. And it demands that he pleases his partner, curling to what they desire because pleasing provides him with pleasure. 

He’s just fucking nuzzling into him. His nose happily shoved against the patch of hair around the base of his cock. Chris can feel the hairs all over his body raise on end, Sebastian’s hot, wet air thickly rushing over his most sensitive skin as he breathes out. Panting over his cock, basically and probably drooling. 

He groans low in his chest. His vision is a little spotty. 

His vision blacks out when Sebastian mouths at him, placing sloppy, wet, open mouth kisses generously up his shaft. The down. Then up. His hips snap up accidentally, Sebastian takes it like a champ, staying in place and letting his lips slide down him with a toe curling wet noise. He curls a hand around the base of him, kissing the skin just above his fingers. Sighing like it’s the only thing he wants in his life. Then switching gears and licking a thick, bold line up the bottom of his cock. Chris chokes on his saliva while excess of Sebastian’s is already running down his skin, pooling around the base of his cock and slipping down to his balls.  _ Fuck. How’d he know?  _ Chris thinks, wanting to shout praise for Sebastian from the tallest fucking building so everyone knows.  _ My sub is the best. So good and pretty and natural. He lives to submit. He’s the sweetest. _

Eager blowjobs are always great. Every time. But, sloppy  _ and  _ eager blowjobs. Fuck. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ He’s not gonna fucking last. He’s not just not going to last, he’s gonna die. He gasps. Sebastian takes his head into his mouth, sucking sweetly. He pops off audibly, moaning at his taste.  _ Yeah,  _ he’s heading towards an early grave, for sure. 

_ “Fuck,  _ Seb, you-you’re gonna kill me,” he groans, squeezing and tugging Sebastian’s hair with one hand and the sheets with his other, exhaling the words heavily and expecting them to give him a little release. To not make him want to cum as urgently as he currently does. He doesn’t expect them to make Sebastian double down. 

But that’s what they do. He feels Seb’s weight shift the mattress as he wiggles happily, grinding down like he can’t help himself, his breath shutters around his cock with the added pleasure. And for sure, eventually Chris is going to make Sebastian grind himself silly against the bed until he cums while he tries his hardest to keep it together enough to blow him at the same time. Chris’ eyes roll to the back of his head, Sebastian’s tongue is hot and skilled on him. Drawing nonsensical lines up his shaft, getting him wetter and messier. His expert movements are even more enthusiastic now. Making his pulse pound through him like a hammer, cracking him open like brittle concrete. Making his skin feel paper thin, only nerves meant for processing pleasure remaining underneath the delicate surface. He gasps. Shuts his eyes and then opens them a second later. 

Smothered under his pleasure and relishing in feeling Sebastian really get to work, taking the head in his mouth and then sinking down. Pulling back. Sinking down. Driving him fucking  _ crazy,  _ bringing out all those animal urges and turning them up to ten. He pushes his fist down into the mattress- hard. Nearly punching the mattress. 

_ “Oh god,” _ he moans, barely breathing, feeling his cock slide halfway into Sebastian’s dream of a mouth. Slide out. Slide in again. Saliva gets displaced and runs down his skin all the while, making the most filthy noises. His skin burns hot and bright with it, arousal becoming thick and toxic. 

He shuts his eyes tight and throws his head back, caring exactly not at all about the crack of the headboard against his head. He faces the ceiling, eyes screwed shut. He  _ knows _ Sebastian is going to fucking look like the best, most unreal wet-dream of a man while going down on him and he want so, so badly to look down but he needs to get a handle on himself before that happens. Trying and failing to cope with the rising pleasure by not looking. Fighting the tide in vain. Trying to force the energy revving him up so easily and intensely to go elsewhere than his aching, full balls and throbbing cock. The stretch of the tendons and muscles in his neck from looking up and back being drowned out by the hot, wet suction of Seb’s mouth around his cock, not being  _ any  _ competition at all. 

He’s taken him almost all the way down by now… which is not fucking easy. He’s not vain. He’s logical. He knows he’s thick, thick and above average in length and… jesus. His head is spinning, pulse hammering away in his chest and cock. His cock. Which is mostly entirely in Sebastian’s mouth and throat and-

He looks down at Sebastian. Giving in to his lust but mostly into the want to check in on  _ his _ sub. Wild tremors shake his body just by thinking that.  _ His sub.  _

Sebastian’s face down on his cock, taking it like he’ll die without it, breathing through his nose so he can stay down, forcing himself lower with such finesse that Chris might fucking pass out. He’s got no blood going to his brain. He moans, long and loud until he runs out of air. He chokes. He takes in another breath. 

He moans again against the feeling of Sebastian swallowing around him. His candy red lips catching his eyes like always. Wrecking and swollen from use. Redder than he’s ever seen them, greedily catching all of the light in the room with how wet they are. He aches. His fucking cock _hurts._ Sebastian pulls back halfway to take in a decent breath for once before sinking straight back down. Chris’ head reels. Catching an eyeful of his reverently shut eyes, worship painted in a thick layer over his face. His lips stretched, wet, red, and swollen. Sebastian is _the_ most erotic sight he’s ever seen. He’s freaking the fuck out over how dizzy he is, drowning and spiraling with his animal desires. His lust. His need. _What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuc-_

Sebastian moans around him, squeezing his thigh in the hand that’s not cupping the base of his cock. The vibrations of his needy sound drawing a curse from his own lips. And then, all of the sudden, he can’t stop talking. His tongue and lips shape and spill over with more words and sounds and he doesn’t know what he’s saying until they hit his ears. 

“Fuck, fuck, Seb, lookit you. You take it so well. So well.” He pauses to fail at taking in more air, not even taking a full breath under the waves of pleasure crashing over him. His words only coax Sebastian to suck him more, making him stay as low as he can. Letting his cock take up the available in his throat, relaxing and swallowing around it perfectly. “Opening up for me, letting me in. Letting me fuck your throat,” he groans. Falling apart against something that Sebastian does with his ludicrously talented tongue. “You’re doing so good, baby, letting me inside you like you were made for it.” Sebastian nods as best as he can and Chris chuckles, nearly choking. Groaning, enjoying himself to the max, “taking me so well.” He whispers, rubbing the delicate skin under his eyes, starting to get wet with his spilled tears. The intrusion of his cock making him cry. Chris’ arousal roars in his chest. His veins burn with heat. His muscle fibers contracting individually with the pleasure rushing his body. He makes a guttural sound, helpless with letting it slide from between his already parted lips. Sebastian squirms harder with his words and sounds. Sucking and hollowing his cheeks. Whimpering and gurgling on his cock. Desperate and needy. 

Even more arousal strikes through him like a fucking sword to the chest, devastating him. His cock jerks in Sebastian’s mouth. He pulls all the way back, sucks in a big breath and sinks right back down. Easy as anything. Chris’ vision is spotty again, his head light and filled with static fueled pleasure. “You’re  _ so good. So perfect. _ Thank you, baby.” Seb keens around him for his honesty. He shutters, continuing, “you’re gonna make me cum, baby. Making me lose control,  _ yeah. _ Fuck, Seb.” He grabs onto Seb’s hair like the life line that it is. “Drooling over my cock and choking for me just because I told you. And because you want it so bad. Making me crazy, sub.” 

The last little word,  _ sub,  _ just slips from his lips. 

It makes sense, it’s obvious, it’s just the shortened word for submissive and it’s so, so close to the shortened version of Sebastian’s name. Sub. Seb. It’s nearly the same; just one wayward letter, one changed syllable. This whole time there’s probably just been a countdown until he did that, accidentally, but he didn’t mean it  _ accidentally.  _ Seb is his sub. And he’s coming around to the power and pseudo ownership that comes with their growing dynamic.  _ His sub.  _ But… 

Whatever he was going with his half thought out thoughts easily gets shot down because Sebastian is pushing back against the hand that he has in his hair, which was pushing him down onto his cock, helping him take it because he’s being so goddamn good. Jerking back against him. Asking for air. Asking to have his body back from pleasing him.

Chris’ eyes fly open  _ and- when did he close them?  _ His hand coming up off of Seb’s head like he’s been burned, his fingers untangling from Seb’s silky hair. Panic already growing roots in the soil of his chest. The ever rising tide of arousal dipping a tiny bit lower in his chest and veins.  _ He didn’t think about the fact that Seb can’t safeword with his mouth full-! _

Sebastian doesn’t pull fully away though, he hovers close enough over him that his lips brush the tip of his cock as he struggles to speak, Chris can’t hide his gasp at the sensation, not fully. Sebastian is slurring and moaning a little still under his breath. He twitches and the hand that the sub has still curled around his cock squeezes him harder in an instant response. He swallows a groan and Sebastian makes more noises, leaning down into his cock again like he can’t help himself. He pulls his head back because he obviously pulled away for a reason, tugging his hair, and drunk with his submissiveness Seb moans. Slurring a little more, swimming through subspace in the second-nature way he has with the headspace. Chris’ hips jerk forward helplessly. Feeling his smooth, slick, hot lips over his head and wanting to get back into his throat. 

_ “Nnnhg,” _ he moans, mouth lazy and clumsy, and tears not forced from the intrusion of himself in his throat begin falling, wetting his flushed, messy cheeks. Chris’ heart thunders away in his chest and in his cock and balls, reminding him of his desperation as if he might’ve possibly forgot about it. He makes a high, panicked sound, his hips pressing into the mattress again. Chris has never seen anything as erotic. He’s not honestly sure how the hell he hasn’t just cum yet. Not with his frantic, erratic breath washing over his cock hotly. He groans in the back of his throat. 

“‘M, ‘mmm,  _ ‘m gonna-” _ he tries sweetly. Clearly trying to swim through subspace enough to actually talk and make sense. 

“Color?” He tries, he doesn’t know where Sebastian is going. What he wants. He doesn’t know yet, he’s barely gotten any sounds out of him now that he’s out of his throat when while he was Sebastian had been crying and moaning and making all the noises he could. Wildly and obviously enjoying having his mouth full. His throat giving way for him, his jaw open in invitation.

“Gr’nn,” he cries, pushing his face into his hip. Chris knows he’s sweating and boiling over with heat as is Sebastian, having him nuzzling into him proves that. Uncaring about the mess of saliva and pre-cum that gets spread over his cheek as he does it, letting his cock lay against his cheek. Chris swallows around the ball of lust crawling back to the tip of his tongue, urging him to tell Sebastian about everything he’s doing to him. 

Chris blows out a pleased sigh and rather than speaking for years about how good he is and good he’s making him feel he condenses it into, “that’s good baby, good job.” Sebastian keens, his hips moving against the bed restlessly. His muscles rippling and contracting randomly, as if he’s fighting his own actions and-

_ Actually. Wait.  _

Chris uses his toes to tap Seb’s hip and he stills for a second, like magic, falling under his spell.  _ The perfect sub. _ He stills for long enough that Chris can slide his toes between his hip and the bed without interruption, then he lifts his foot up, flicking his ankle and urging his body to move even though he isn’t the most coordinated like this. Clumsy and naked and beautiful. Breath gets caught in his chest at how beautifully Sebastian obeys the simple touch, lifting his hips up from off of the bed even though his thighs are trembling with the effort it takes him to do it. 

Doing it even though he sobs as his hips rise. Chris can see how heavily his cock is hanging between his legs, swollen and hard and dark, he’s pretty sure he can see it jump too. Even from his place, lying back. Clearly painful with how turned on he is. He probably was so close, close enough that he didn’t want to lift his hips up. 

He nudges Sebastian’s thigh this time with his foot, silently encouraging him to get his knees under himself because surely that’ll feel better and be easier on his overtaxed muscles. Sebastian obeys. His thighs keep shaking but less so than before, he smiles to himself. A rush of heat coming to him just from  _ that,  _ from helping his submissive stay good. 

And just as he’s thinking about asking Sebastian to tell him about it, his sweet fucking sub just shakes his head against him. Letting his arms drop and fold under him even more than before, laying ass up and face down. Except with his face against his  _ very  _ hard cock instead of against the bed. Lightning bolts of want equipped with fangs cut into him, hollowing him of his organs and replacing it with nothing but an unquenchable thirst for Seb. The wetness of his tears falls onto his hip, he sobs again, sniffling and licking at the base of his cock like he can’t not,  _ “wanna, wanna cum,”  _ he whimpers eventually. 

Chris’ vision wipes into nothing but white. Like how some people say you see red when really angry but… he’s so fucking turned on that he can’t see straight. He can’t see anything. He can’t fucking think beyond those little, broken words. He wanted to cum  _ so bad  _ Chris can  _ feel  _ it and hear it in his voice. He knows the fucking feeling. The experience. He’s right there. 

He clenches his jaw until his teeth ache- although the ache in his jaw is nothing compared to the hot, flaming need of his balls and cock.

Chris manages to hang onto the edge of his high but  _ barely. _ He digs his nails into his right palm and bites harshly down on his lower lip, giving up on clenching his jaw for fear of cracking teeth. Fuck. Fuck. He wants nothing more than to reach out and force his orgasm back with a hand around the base of his cock but he’s honestly pretty sure if he did that he wouldn’t have enough self control to just not stroke himself off, to let go because it hurts to hang back. And one little touch could set him off. He grits his teeth again.  _ God.  _

_ “I want- wanted to cum…”  _ he whines,  _ “so bad, sir.” _

Fire licks up Chris’ legs with furious intent, meaning to eat him alive undoubtedly, attacking his vulnerable cock and balls which are easily available between his spread thighs. Sebastian melted into a puddle of need between his legs. His voice is nothing but a whine wrapped in crystal clear, pure desperation. He focuses on Sebastian as much as he can through the haze shrouding his vision - the closing in walls of darkness yelling at him to just let go, to give in - carding his hand through his sweaty, tangled hair, he tells Sebastian “I know, but it’s okay, sub. You didn’t. You’re still good.” Breathless because it doesn’t feel like there’s any air left inside the fucking atmosphere. 

Sebastian whines and wiggles at the praise, out of it enough to get caught up in the movement, shaking his hips some. Chris chuckles. Pets his hair some more, “thank you for telling me,” he coos after he can actually breathe again, “you’re so good.” Sebastian parts his lips to pant noisily, moaning a little and sucking kisses into the side of his shaft, nosing him. Showing his thanks. 

“Guh- god, Seb.” Chris moans, using the hand he’s got cradling the back of Sebastian’s head to keep him still while he works his hips. Pushing into the messy, uncoordinated kisses and licks that are happening. Letting go of all the noises boiling up from his chest because Seb deserves to know how well he’s doing. 

Sebastian repeats his earlier process, moving from those little teasing kisses and licks to sucking his head into his mouth but this time he swirls his tongue around the crown of his cock. And Chris’ vision fades again. He would actually mourn the pretty and downright obscene vision of Sebastian bobbing on his cock if it were not burned into the back of his eyelids even as he loses control of his senses. He moans, “holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum,  _ fuck.”  _

His eyes immediately fly open when his words cause Sebastian to stop sucking him, pulling back with a  _ slurp _ that makes his thighs tense and his cock throb that much harder. 

Sebastian is there.  _ Of course. _ Looking like a wet dream, a porn magazine photoshoot, and an angel all in one. His eyes are open, his pupils completely having taken over his pale blue eyes except for a ring thin enough that Chris is pretty sure he’s just imagining it, and his eyelids are half closed. Heavy with his hazy desire. He’s looking straight up at him, kittenish and wanton, single-minded with whatever has caught his attention. There’s a couple of clear tear tracks over his fuck-flushed cheeks but most of them have been annihilated by the mess of pre-cum and spit smeared against his skin. His lips are swollen and dark red, shimmering with various bodily fluids. He looks  _ wrecked. Debauched. Slutty. Subby. _

_ “Please-”  _ he whispers, clearly trying hard to tamper down his sobs but not fully succeeding. One of them interrupting his speech, “please, sir.” 

Consider him fucked stupid. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s on about. What the fuck he’s asking so nicely for. What-

_ Oh. Fuck.  _

Chris growls and nods, rasping, “yeah.” 

Sebastian ducks back down, moaning as he opens his mouth and allows for Chris to slip fully back into him. Sucking him so fucking perfectly. Flattening his tongue and stroking it over the bottom of his cock. Humming because he just somehow knows that that’s his fucking weakness. Taking him to his knees when he’s floating on endorphins and trusting him to take care of everything for him. His gut clenches and churns. He can feel the vibrations of Seb’s humming and cutting in moans or whimpers or whatever little noise works its way out of him in his fingertips and goddamn toes. Spreading through his body like waves. His skin is full of static. Every nerve in his body is ablaze with pleasure. And Seb is taking him down to the base like he’s not the size that he is, not as well endowed as he is. Chris swears more, panting and puffing, and probably making some really embarrassing noises and sounds while he’s at it. But his hearing has stopped fucking working so it doesn’t matter.  _ Shit. _ Who knows what the hell is happening, he can’t move beyond the tsunami of pleasure crashing over him right along with the buildings of pleasure falling onto him.

All his fingers can do is grab probably way too harshly at Sebastian’s hair, tugging and squeezing and spasming. All he can do is try to take in all of it- even though there’s no way. His skin feels too small for the desire bursting and building inside of him. He’s boiling over. He’s going to melt. He’s so fucking hot that surely the hairs all over his body will be singed with the lava flowing hot and thick through his veins after he’s put out, if he can be put out. He’s in an endless eruption. An endless erosion. 

He’s pretty sure he’s cumming because surely nothing else will ever feel  _ this  _ good,  _ so _ good. Nothing will ever feel as good as Sebastian’s heavenly, devious lips feel wrapping around him, taking him in.  _ Letting  _ him in. Being so good for him. Ripping him apart and open and ruining him for everything else that isn’t Sebastian Stan because then-

**Then he’s** **_actually_ ** **cumming.**

And it’s more than an earth shattering orgasm. It’s more than an orgasm that sends him to space. It’s more than an orgasm that makes him pass out. 

It’s all of those things  _ and  _ more. Something indescribable. Something un-fucking-real. Indescribable. Unbelievable. Impossible. 

Chris groans weakly, his throat is stuffed with cotton, making the sound come out quiet and dreamy, it also feels like his mouth is stuffed. But… not unpleasantly. He blinks a couple of not time, the room melting back into his vision. The cotton fills his head too, muffling everything like when you’re a kid, still young enough to need to be bathed by a parent, waiting for them to coax you out of keeping your head underwater- where it’s warm and muffled and feels like another dimension. He’s back in the real world but… not. He’s underwater. Where everything is golden and soft and good and warm. 

He breathes in as deep as he can manage, head spinning but not in a vertigo causing way. Just, like… like he’s in orbit. He feels drained and exhausted but in the way that provides you with motivation to want to do it again, the runner’s high, the elusive feeling that draws humans back to things again and again if they’re lucky enough to find the cause. Chris knows he will be drawn back. 

The cause of his high - his own personal phenomenon - is still lying, softened and almost literally completely liquified between his legs. Spread out and malleable. Chris can feel the golden weight of him still. His head is still there, his fingers still curled in his hair, his lips still wrapped around him. Chris sighs or takes a deep breath or does something with his throat and lungs. He’s not paying attention to himself.

He’s paying attention to Sebastian. 

Sebastian is right where he left him - it feels like he left his own body so it’s kind of strange to be in the same position - and just as pliant as he was when he left him. Sucking him still but in a softer, gentler way… like… like? The only word that comes to his orgasm obliterated mind is  _ suckling.  _ And,  _ yeah, that fits. _ He’s still between his lips and down his throat a little ways but Sebastian apparently is conscious enough to know that he can’t still keep trying to make him cum. Because he just did.  _ Hard.  _ So hard he’s not gonna need to cum for, like, another eon. He’s fucking good.  _ That  _ was  _ so good. _

He unwinds his fingers from Sebastian’s hair, trying his hardest to pull away without pulling the knots he’s created in the longest parts of his hair, enjoying the last drags of pleasure, stretched out by the gentle suckling of Sebastian. His mouth needing to be occupied. He sighs again or for the first time. Looking down at Sebastian with hearts and stars in his eyes. 

“Sebastian,” his voice is raspy and overused. Sebastian hears him, the goosebumps rising over his skin tell Chris that, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps his mouth on him. And it doesn’t feel  _ bad,  _ not yet, but he can feel himself going soft in his mouth. It will feel bad pretty soon. It might already, the golden hue overlaying everything might be disguising it, his love for Sebastian might be too. 

Instead of trying to pry into his subspace haze with his voice Chris goes for actions. 

He cards his fingers through the short hairs at the side of his head, following the line of his hair, tracing his ear and then the delicate skin that’s behind his ear. Finally stroking down his neck. Sebastian tilts his head into the touch but his eyes are still closed. Chris taps his cheek a couple of times, watching his eyelashes flutter with growing concern. He doesn’t want him so far down that he’s, like, completely gone… if that can even happen? Chris doesn’t know.  _ Dammit.  _ They should’ve talked about that. 

Despite himself and the worries beginning to break through the haze of his lowering back down to earth he can’t help but trace the gorgeous, toe-curling line of his lips. Shivering at touching where they’re connected even though he’s just cum. His heart rate starts to rise again, rather than continuing to lower. 

“Sub,” he tries, soft and low. 

Sebastian’s heavy eyelids open about halfway. Lightning quick. His eyes lazily drawing open and shutting. Chris, as if possessed by knowledge that he doesn’t have, pushes his index finger into the lax seal of Seb’s lips. Sliding his finger into Sebastian’s mouth, parallel to his own cock that’s already filling his mouth. He shivers, Seb is hot and slick and  _ a dream _ inside. Sebastian makes an indescribably sweet sound of surprise, his eyes fluttering all the way open. Staying open. Seeing him.

Chris feels his cock twitch one last time, his own eyes widening, his breath being stolen from his lungs- his body telling him that he needs to shut his legs before he gets hard again because,  _ no,  _ that’s way too soon. 

But Sebastian…

Sebastian looks like an angel. His eyes aren’t just hazy or unfocused with subspace - floating and barely tethered back to him even though he completely is his - his eyes are something else. Something that Chris has never seen but he knows, just laying his eyes on the look resting there that it’s  _ addictive.  _ He’s going to hunger for this.  _ All  _ the time. Sebastian had said that he  _ needs  _ this, he needs to submit, and Chris hadn’t thought he needed to dominate his partners in the bedroom but… he might’ve been wrong. He’ll be wrong. After this. After today. 

“Sub,” he breathes again, dumbly. He doesn’t know what to say. Just looking at Sebastian is the greatest gift he’s ever been allowed. He knows the only reason he’s even still sort of hard is because of him. He makes him crazy. He does things to him that he doesn’t understand. 

Sebastian blinks slowly, peeking up at him. Suckling on both his finger and his cock. Which-

Chris holds Sebastian’s jaw in his other hand, painfully slowly sliding him off of his cock and pushing two additional fingers into his mouth the second he’s all the way out. Drool glistening thickly all over his cock, all of his cum having been swallowed down. Another surge of second wind, well, it doesn’t even feel like it’s been long enough to call it a second wind… he doesn’t know what to call it, but he feels more arousal bubble weakly inside him. Trying in a valiant effort to get him hard again. 

“Good boy,” he whispers, pushing his fingers down onto Sebastian’s tongue because it’s what his brain apparently thinks he should be doing. Sebastian moans around his fingers. Sucking at them harder.  _ Hmm, noted,  _ he smirks, doing it again. Pulling the same wrecked sound out of him. “Enough playing,” he says aloud mostly to himself but also to Sebastian. Then, just to Sebastian, “it’s your turn, baby.” 

He thinks, for a second, that he should get Sebastian to shuffle a little higher up and then drop his hips so he can grind himself into a frenzy against his thigh, moaning around the fingers he has stuffed into his mouth. But… he has one hand in his mouth already and his palms are itching to touch him. Wanting to do more than grope his fantastic ass or cup his hip as he humps him. And… he is still wearing his jeans. They’re messy with saliva and probably cum and tears and that wouldn’t be the best for Seb. He doesn’t want his pretty cock getting rubbed raw. 

So, with protesting muscles (even though he didn’t do much other than lie back and let Sebastian please him), he flips them over. Sebastian squirms when he has to take his fingers from his mouth to guide him over, mewling disappointedly. But he also squirms when his back hits the sheets and Chris pushes three of his fingers back into his sloppy, gorgeous mouth, his needy moan getting cut right in half. …so he’s pretty sure it’s just Sebastian not knowing what to do with himself rather than being displeased. 

Chris shucks his pants one-handed, tucking himself back into his underwear too. 

“Cum whenever you need to, okay baby?” He whispers, kissing his cheek quickly, heart fluttering when Sebastian turns into it a second after he pulls away. Delayed but still wanting. He sort of lays down just to Sebastian’s side so they’re pressed together from tip to tail but not in a way that he’s squashing Seb. Sort of propped up against Sebastian and on his elbow. Giving himself room to keep his fingers in his mouth and to wrap his hand around Sebastian’s cock after he spits in his palm. He knows he’s got more than enough lube in his nightstand but getting it would mean moving. And he’s not going to leave Sebastian. 

He grips Sebastian tight but strokes him slow, giving him pressure and the build he knows he adores. Twisting his wrist how he knows he likes and rubbing his head a little harder than the rest of his cock because he knows it makes sparks shoot up from his toes to his stomach, he knows it makes him  _ drip.  _ Chris wants him dripping and wet for him. He wants him desperate and easy. 

Sebastian keens the second his hand is on him. His fingers clench and unclench, unable to decide what the fuck to do with the onslaught of pleasure. His toes curl and his legs tense. 

_ Fuck,  _ Chris’ eyes push open just a little wider with his shock. Touching Sebastian is a fucking gift from god. His breath gets caught in his throat. He can  _ feel _ Sebastian’s pulse throbbing through his cock. He’s thick, hot, and slick with his own pre-cum. Pulsing in his hand.  _ God, he needs it so bad.  _ He wonders a little about how full and tight his balls would feel if his other hand was free. But it’s not. And he doesn’t really want it to be. Sebastian pushes up into his hand recklessly, sounding a bit like he’s drowning. Gurgling on his own sounds, whimpers and moans and gasps and whines and cut off wails. He’s leaking so much and Chris has to lick his lips and bite his lower one in order to stop himself from doubling over and chasing the gleaming liquid. If he moves that far Sebastian’s not going to be able to keep his fingers in his mouth, not with the angle. So he stays put. 

He flicks his eyes up from Sebastian’s twitching, throbbing cock in his fist to his face. It’s impossible to choose where the fuck to look. His cock is nearly purple from holding on but his face is a vision of unadulterated ecstasy, painting his face in thick strokes of fresh paint. He’s dripping with it. Leaking pleasure and pre-cum and tears and drool. Chris has never seen anyone as erotic. As gorgeous. His breathtaking eyes are open but they’ve rolled all the way to the back of his head in his overwhelming pleasure. His mouth is locked around his fingers, tonguing them like he’s trying to show off how good he is at giving head. Like he didn’t just give him the best head of his life. It’s a shame that he can’t make all the noises that he wants to with his fingers in his mouth but it doesn’t matter that much… Chris’ brain is still dripping out of his ears at hearing what sounds he can make. Of course he’s still blushing. Still crying. Still needy and obscene. Still everything Chris wants. 

Chris is so busy studying his face and stroking his fist up and down Sebastian’s rock hard cock that he’s blind to the approaching cliff. 

He only notices it when Sebastian’s eyes suddenly squeeze shut and his brows furrow, his mouth falling open in a silent scream and his hips plunging straight up into his fist. Cumming all over his hand and himself. Painting them both with his release, emptying himself and giving over the one percent he had left. Going completely limp in his hold. Relaxing back onto the bed. 

Chris can’t breathe. 

He’s not sure how or why but something inside of him snaps. Melting with Sebastian’s release like it’s the last thing he needed too before his exhaustion fully set in on his body, weighing him down. Maybe the last release he needed was getting Sebastian there- needing to please his submissive as much as his submissive needs to please him. Chris nods to himself, it makes sense. He continues to stroke him for a little while longer, slowly waning him off his pleasure before it starts to hurt him. He slips his fingers out of his mouth too, one at a time, making sure he can breathe a little better. 

_ “There you go,” _ he mumbles into his hair when he stops fisting him and gets all of his fingers out of his mouth - tracing his swollen lower lip briefly - knowing full well that Sebastian won’t respond and might not even hear him. Depending on how deep in he is- he thinks he’s pretty far gone, but, what does he know? He’s only known about subspace for, like, three days. Sebastian makes a tiny noise, barely audible. It doesn’t seem like it’s in response to his words but just in response to his voice. Chris kisses his cheek, turning himself over and then pulling Sebastian on top of him. 

First he’s going to cuddle with Sebastian until he can at least agree with or respond to him in telling him that he’s going to get up to get a washcloth (again- he really doesn’t want to leave him just yet, especially not when he’s floating) so he can clean him off. And then he’s going to clean Seb up a little. Then he’s gonna change their sheets- or, no. First he’s going to go get Sebastian something to eat and drink, having him do that and  _ then _ he’ll change the sheets, find Seb something comfy to wear, dress him (if he’ll let him), then let Dodger back up stairs for more cuddling and sleeping. In the morning he'll make Sebastian some pancakes because his sub has a sweet tooth a mile wide and they'll talk about it. About what he liked, loved, and what he didn't like.  _ Yeah. That’s what I’ll do.  _ Chris sighs, kisses Seb’s face again and squeezes him a little tighter. Letting his eyelids drift shut so he can rest his eyes- he won’t fall asleep though. He doesn’t want to yet. He wants to be awake when Sebastian comes back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments will always be well received! Tell me your thoughts on this chapter if you want. What do you think the next, Final, chapter will be on? Do you like the format I chopped this chapter up into? Do you align more with Chris, a natural dom, or with Sebastian, the perfect sub? Anything!! 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	5. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fast-forwards a full year into Chris and Sebastian's relationship from the couple of months that they had been at in the past two chapters, keeping that in mind this is a look at how the passed time and practice with their dynamic has shaped their sex life. How they've grown comfortable with it. 
> 
> Basically, Sebastian has been having a hard week and Chris knows just how to make his sub feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *off-key kazoo and tone deaf singing* 🎵 It's the final countdown... 🎵

_ Chris _

Sebastian’s feet are in Chris’ lap and somewhere across the couch he can hear Sebastian sigh again - even over the movie they’re supposed to be watching - just a little puff of air that he wouldn’t think twice about hearing if he hadn’t already heard it a million times tonight. He’s more attuned to it now that it’s been happening again and again. The darkness surrounding and blanketing them doesn’t hide the sound as one would think it would, it doesn’t even muffle it. All it does is make Chris picture what Sebastian’s face must look like in its absence- again, it’s dark, so he can’t see it. They turned the lights out because, god knows, neither of them have been to see a movie in years that hasn’t been a premiere and having the lights off makes it a little like being in a cinema. But Sebastian’s face- 

He knows he’s tired and ruffled; still handsome as ever but  _ tired. _ Worn down by work as everyone is sometimes,  _ even _ if you’re madly in love with your job. _ Especially _ if you’re madly in love with your job because then you judge yourself for being tired of your dream job. Poor Seb woke up with bags under those pretty eyes probably caused by all the tossing and turning he did last night (not to say that they’re exactly new, he’s been tired for what seems like the whole week and it’s slowly killing Chris because he can’t do a thing about it), stress is wearing his eyes themselves dull because all of his emotion tends to settle in his eyes and when he’s really exhausted he doesn’t know how to express anything but that exhaustion as himself, and his lips are permanently raw and red no matter how much Chris taps his lips and tells him to put on some Chapstick. Or no matter how many times Chris slips a couple of hard candies into his pocket as he’s leaving. Kissing him on the cheek and stuffing the candies into his pockets rather than groping his ass like he often does when he leaves- he can’t help himself. It always makes Sebastian gasp and blush, and who doesn’t love a visibly flustered Sebastian? He more than loves that kind of Sebastian.

Sebastian’s feet slip off of his lap, mirroring the spiral of thoughts that had been sucking him in suddenly disappearing. He blinks a few times and focuses on the flickering TV in the middle of their dark living room. Chris lets his hands lay flat on his lap in the absence of his ankles to hold them up, pretending to watch the movie and waiting to see if Sebastian will shift back and resettle his elegant ankles across his legs, seeking more of a massage this time maybe. Maybe he’ll ask for a foot massage. One  _ would  _ probably do him good. He’s been on his feet all the time except for when he’s sleeping for what seems like months now. 

But Sebastian doesn’t shift back to put his feet in his lap, going back to lounging across the couch, he instead sighs. Shifting in some way that Chris isn’t aware of because of the lack of light. And then he shifts again. This time with a little involuntary groan accompanying the restless ambient sounds, like he’s stretching or something. He settles back against the couch. He shifts again. 

Chris nearly sighs at all of the moving, but he doesn’t. He’s not disappointed or angry with Sebastian for trying to self soothe and he doesn’t want it to come off that way. 

Instead Chris opens his mouth - intending on asking Sebastian if he just wants to go to bed and try to catch up on some sleep instead of keeping himself up forcibly with his restless movements - but ultimately he doesn’t say anything. He shuts his lips. Not talking or sighing. If he did ask Sebastian to just come to bed early with him… he knows it wouldn’t do any good to fix the problem at hand. Sebastian is tired, yes, and more sleep than usual wouldn’t do him any harm, per say, but he’s also not just tired in a way that sleep will fix. He needs another kind of stress relief. 

Sebastian has been so busy with interviews and public appearances and photoshoots and casting calls and _everything_ between _The Bronze_ and _The Martian_ and his new level of fame produced by his role as “The Winter Soldier” that they really haven’t had any time as a couple to do anything but what they’re doing now. Cuddle and sleep. Bathing in each other’s company and not really talking because they’ve both been talking non-stop all day, being the center of attention and expected to be entertaining and not just human. Crashing in the same bed is more than Chris ever thought he would get of Sebastian but now that he’s had _all_ of Sebastian… he knows it’s not enough. For either of them. 

He knows Sebastian wants to float, wants to be good for him, and wants to go into subspace while Chris doms him. Sebastian needs the kind of rest that comes with getting his needs met and being allowed to do nothing but be  _ good  _ for a while. He does know that. But, he really kind of wants Sebastian to ask for it. 

Sebastian asks for it plenty, don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t need Seb to tell him because he’s worried about communicating. He communicates plenty… he just feels like he needs to say it this time. There are plenty of times he says it easily, walking up to him and hugging him, tucking his face into the junction of his shoulder and neck, before quietly whispering,  _ “would you, like, wanna do a scene tonight. I- I think it’d be better for me, uhh, sooner rather than later.”  _ Or rolling over in bed in the morning, propositioning him when he’s only half awake, slurring something out that’s strangely completely honest and also surreal. Usually motivated by a dream, murmuring,  _ “can you tie ‘m down? Today?”  _ or  _ “thought about, ‘bout you dommmmming me las’ night.”  _ One time he even just weakly clung to him and squirmed until he was close enough that Chris could easily feel his erection through his thin boxers, whining into his ear,  _ “sir’s g’nna need to fuck me. You need’ta fuck me, Chris.”  _ Or even once when he had been particularly needy, deprived almost he’d crawled over to him to ask… however. That memory is too hot to even think about most of the time. He’ll, like, black out if he thinks about it for too long. 

This time Chris knows that Sebastian needs to relax in the way that only subspace allows for him to,  _ but _ he's not sure if Sebastian knows that. Not yet. He’s probably just a little ways away from connecting the dots. 

Sebastian drops his head onto his lap. His cheek colliding with the back of his hand as he collapses, making another puff of a noise. Just another sigh really, he’s not upset that he didn’t move his hand or anything. The sudden appearance of Sebastian in his lap startles Chris but he’s wound up enough to not even giggle about it like he normally would. Not thinking straight enough to tease him about how jumpy he can be. 

“Honey?” Chris murmurs, leaving the hand that’s squished between Seb’s cheek and his thigh where it lies and bringing his other up to play with his hair some. Scratching his scalp in the way that makes Sebastian melt the fastest. Sebastian’s eyes flutter shut, absorbing the feeling of fingers scrubbing through his hair. He also makes a little noise of recognition. Chris- he doesn’t know where he’s actually trying to go, he swallows, thinking. He still wants Sebastian to ask, so he’s not just going to outright ask him if he’d like to play but… he should say something. He did start this.

“Are you even watching the film?” Is what he settles on, teasing the younger man. Sebastian just groans, rolling face first into his stomach. Chuckles work their way out of his chest and throat and Sebastian bumps his forehead further into his body in retaliation. Non-verbally getting back at him. His lips pull helplessly into a wide grin, “I figured,” he offers. Sebastian whines into his stomach and so Chris cups the back of his head, petting him more intently. Settling his other, newly freed hand on Sebastian’s hip. Seeking it in the dark and finding it easily, relying on his muscle memory. He truly has begun to know Sebastian’s body like the back of his hand. 

“Chris-” Sebastian starts, softly saying his name. Barely whimpering but still complaining clearly. 

“Yeah?” 

Sebastian groans again and Chris can  _ feel  _ him scrunching his nose and blushing in his bones. He knows he is. One hundred percent, he’s for sure doing it, protesting having to say what he needs in the way that he gets occasionally. Chris has learned in the time they’ve had together (a very short time in the scheme of his whole life but a very long time if he goes off of how he feels) that he can get quiet when needs to sub for him. It feels like a fifty fifty shot, whether or not Sebastian will verbalize his needs, but he knows it’s not. There is a way to predict his baby. He’ll be less likely to ask when he falls between wanting it but not, like, needing it right then and there and the opposite- needing it exactly then in a way that means everything else has to be dropped or he might, like, cry. When he’s in the middle of those extremes he gets a little embarrassed. When he wants it but isn’t going to keel over if he can’t get it he’s not embarrassed because then it feels like he’s just asking for sex like anyone might. When he’s out of his mind with the need to have his world righted by submitting then his embarrassment flies out of the window and he’ll openly beg. If he’s between then he just seems to only be embarrassed. Which is a shame. Seeing him subby and floaty is a fucking gift. And he’ll tell Sebastian that until the day he dies because he  _ needs _ to know. 

More restless shifting happens. More noises happen. 

Vaguely Chris’ glad that Dodger isn’t here with them - he’s spending the weekend at his sister’s house - because he knows Sebastian’s restlessness would rub off on him. And then they’d have a very jumpy, barky dog when people are trying to sleep and Chris would rather not have noise complaints. He’s a very empathic animal- his mom tells him that he gets it from  _ “his dad.”  _

Chris sets his right hand on Sebastian’s ass, not in the way that he might casually do as a tease or just because he’s allowed to do such a thing now that they’re dating, but in a way that screams  _ you’re mine.  _ He’s squeezing his ass in his hand, digging his fingers into the fabric of his shorts as well as his flesh, making sure his whole hand is spread wide over him with _ intent. _ He weaves his left into Sebastian’s hair after he’s satisfied with the position of his other hand, pulling his head back just a little with his grib. Just enough for him to feel it, tugging enough to hear him make the same little gasp that fell from his lips at being groped so openly again. Touching him intentionally, letting him know that he’s  _ his  _ and that he  _ knows  _ what he wants and needs.

_ You have no shame here  _ is what Chris is trying to tell him. 

He’s seen everything Sebastian has to give, he’s seen him at his most vulnerable, teary-eyed and stripped down to the rawest version of himself by his need to please. And he still loves him. Fiercely. He loves him more than he understands, in the beginning of all of this he had to keep telling Sebastian that he’s into anything he likes and even at the time he hadn’t realized just how true that was. He’s not sure he still even knows the true extent of that rule; not even with their closets being full of purposely designed restraints, toys, and other objects that don’t look nearly as obscene as they should, seeing what they really use them for. He just knows he’s never loved anyone like he loves Sebastian. 

_ “Sir, please,”  _ Sebastian hushes into his stomach, whimpering and clutching at his shirt. Curling his fingers into tight fists. 

Chris’ veins flare with hot blood, rushing towards his cock, the flow of his blood already being redirected. Just from  _ two  _ words. “Tell me,” he commands, the words naturally there on the tip of his tongue. He knows what would really settle Sebastian but it’s always good to check in anyway, in case his sub really, really wants one specific thing. He’s not punishing him and if he wants something then he should get it, even if he  _ was  _ punishing him… if he’s going to ask then he should be rewarded. 

“I wanna-” he pauses, Chris can feel his fingers tighten, fighting himself with trying to get the words out of himself, “wanna be good.” He sighs again, like he’s relieved with himself for shaping those words, and then adds, quickly and quietly, “for you.” 

Chris lessens the grip he has on his hair, returning to petting him rather than showing him that he’s got him. Slow and languid with his movements he drags his fingernails lightly over his scalp, messing up his hair. Sebastian melts into it, making a little noise- something of a mewl that’s muffled by the shirt he’s still got his face buried in. Chris can feel his soft, warm breaths through the fabric, brushing against his stomach, “you’re always good, Seb,” he breathes out in return. His sub squirms and pushes closer. Always easy for praise. “I know what you need though,” he says, but he thinks  _ I know what you’re trying to say, it’s okay that you can’t. I’ll be here to know.  _

“You need me to choose, right?” 

Sebastian breathes in deep and releases his fists from his shirt,  _ “please.” _ His voice is less than a whisper, a fragment of sound caught up in the environment around them and speaking of- Chris quickly glances up.  _ Ah,  _ the movie’s finished,  _ that’s why it’s so quiet.  _

He licks his lips, “yeah.” He blinks down at Sebastian, enjoying the way the darkness paints his face, dramatic but somehow still soft because it is Sebastian, “I know. All you’ve gotta do is keep being good, I’ll worry about the rest, okay?” 

“Green.” Sebastian replies, his voice a tiny bit hazy in a way that says he’s already slipping into his sub mindset just from the anticipation of needing it so bad and being told you can have it very soon. He’s nuzzling in close again before peeling back and sitting up obediently when Chris taps the nape of his neck. Knowing he wants to get up, not even dreaming of not letting him go. He trusts that he’ll come back. Flawlessly so. Understanding their non-verbal language easily, something that has been built with their ongoing experience. Chris’ heart swells with affection- his Seb. His sub. 

“Here,” he turns around once he stands up, reaching for one of the throw pillows they have on the couch. Putting it down on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, encircling Sebastian’s wrist in his hand and pulling him to his feet, Sebastian follows, of course. They stand face to face for a moment, Chris knows the look in his eyes- he wants to be kissed. He will kiss him… in a minute. The anticipation is too good to ruin right now, so he doesn’t. He drops Sebastian’s wrist to free his hands completely so he can bend over and push the coffee table away from the couch, more into the middle of the living room instead of by the couch, making sure that Sebastian will have enough room to comfortably kneel for a long period of time. He doesn’t want the table digging into his back or side or anything like that. Just like he doesn’t want their wooden floors to dig into his knees- hence the pillow currently by itself on the floor. 

Chris rights himself, turning the nearest lamp on and flicking his attention back to him. Sebastian is where he left him. He smiles, pride curls in his chest for his submissive, he didn’t tell him to move but he also didn’t tell him not to move. He just did that because he wanted to. He did it for himself. Because he’s good. Sebastian’s eyes are locked onto his mouth, he makes a tiny sound when his lips pull from just a smile into a smirk, his want coming off of him in waves. He lets his body be pulled into the tide of Sebastian, leaning closer and closer to him in moments stretched like warm taffy between a child’s fingers- yet to truly understand and learn not to play with their food. 

But he stops. 

Right before their lips would meet, less than an inch from kissing him. 

Sebastian whimpers helplessly, helping to thicken the illusion that he’s helpless, he could move in a heartbeat if he really wanted to. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to be good. He wants to wait to be kissed by his dominant now. 

“Kneel for me, sub.” 

Sebastian crumbles, elegant in his collapse, tumbling to the ground with gusto. His knees hitting the pillow that had been abandoned to its lonesome before being introduced to Sebastian’s knees with a sound that instinctively makes Chris want to get to his knees as well and make him allow him to check to make sure he’s not bruised already. To make sure that he’s not hurt. But he won’t. He knows that Sebastian, if bruised, will wear the marks with pride. He will go to the gym in shorts and not complain for a second about his knees even if he’s squatting or running or jumping. Not caring who sees, well, caring in that he likes attention but… yeah, not caring the way Chris knows he would himself. He will just blush and stutter when Don asks what they’re from even though by now he’s well aware that they have some kind of rough sex (thankfully he did not want any detail beyond making sure they’re being safe) and Sebastian will be bruised from it from time to time. Beyond making sure the marks are wanted and not causing any harm to his client, he never asks. Sebastian will rub his palms down onto his knees, not gently, when sitting until they go away. Pushing his thumbs into bruises, hoping they’ll last a little longer. He will take pictures of them so he can catalogue them in his private folder on his phone. He’ll think about them when he has to put on pants, distraught at having to cover something that he’s given him. He  _ wants  _ those bruises.

So, Chris stays standing. Looking down at his boyfriend like he’s examining him, making his face  _ not  _ fall into all of the love he has for him. Just for a moment, wanting to see him blush and squirm for a moment. He does. Beautiful. Tightening his shoulders into his body, pressing his own arms to his sides, shivering a little, balling his hands up, and flushing red. The color polluting his skin like the colors of a rising sun slowly spreading over the empty sky. Watercolor pigment dumped into water, growing and expanding. The sight has never ceased to take his breath away- Sebastian has always been the prettiest thing he’s ever seen or probably ever will see. 

“Sit still for me, okay?” Sebastian nods, “I’ll be right back.” 

Sebastian’s head is bowed and he looks like he’s in prayer, kneeling as he is. 

He looks devine, so vividly innocent and gorgeous that it almost makes Chris feel guilty, looking how sweet and serene he looks right now and knowing that he’ll be destroyed, debauched after he gets his hands on him. Still, his hands itch to meet his skin. He wants nothing more than to keep his sub close, under his hand and curled in close. Sebastian’s hands are flat, palms down, on his thighs and his legs are curled so his ankles are resting comfortably under his butt. His back is arched slightly- when they first started this and Chris had read into kneeling positions for subs all of them had specified that the sub’s posture should be as straight and proper as possible. They’d tried that. Perfect posture is possible for Sebastian, especially at times like their current, where he’s just waiting. But perfect posture isn’t the best because being required to remember to sit in such a way means he’s not as focused on blissing out. And that’s all Chris really wants from him to be honest. He wants him to feel good and to be good like this. 

He shaved recently and his hair is much the same length that it was when they first met on a dreary set in Liverpool, long ago, and that too makes Chris’ heart ache as he approaches him. He looks so young. Kneeling for him. Submitting to him. 

Chris hums as he approaches, first placing the things he went to get on the arm of the couch where Sebastian won’t think to look (even if he does, he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to see anything from his viewpoint) and says, “‘m right here,” as he sits down on the couch. Not bothering with any other lights but turning off the TV, tossing the remote to the armchair across the room so it’s out of the way. There’s no need for more light, he likes how big Sebastian’s eyes get (and look) in semi-darkness, plus, it’s also a good cocoon for them. It feels right. 

Sebastian looks up, Chris rumbles happily, he knows that Seb knows now that he’s back he wants him to look up at him. At least for the beginning of a scene. Seb gasps as his big eyes wander over his skin. There’s a lot more of his skin on display than there was a couple of seconds ago. He was only in sweatpants and a thin, ratty t-shirt before but on his detour to their bedroom he grabbed a couple of other things, none of them clothes. He, in fact, stripped himself of his sweats and his shirt. He cups Sebastian’s chin, shutting it gently for him, smirking despite himself, “you’re gonna start drooling, baby.” His cheeks flush hotter. His throat contracts, Adam's apple bobbing, as he swallows. 

He drops his chin and instead pushes his hand back through his hair, cupping the nape of his neck with his palm and fingers so his thumb can trace his pulse point. His breathing hitches like it always does when he pushes his thumb into the hammering rhythm of the thin, delicate skin he finds under his fingertip. He thinks aloud, quiet, leaning forward some, pushing more of his frame into Sebastian’s field of vision on purpose, “you’re already hard, aren’t you?” 

_ Sebastian _

_ “You’re already hard, aren’t you?”  _ Chris asks, using  _ that voice,  _ that voice that means fucking buisness. The voice that means he’s about to go fucking crazy with desire. Sebastian moans, barely processing the words and just hearing  _ the voice _ he’s using, not even trying to hold in his noise and just letting it out. Overwhelmed with sudden arousal, his nose is breathy and feminine, causing his embarrassment to thicken right along with his pleasure. He nods slowly, dizzy at finally processing the words and meaning of his words rather than just hearing his voice. He is already hard. Nearly completely hard but not hard like Chris,  _ Sir, _ likes him to be. Sir likes him throbbing and aching and leaking - ruining whatever he might be wearing - clamoring to get any friction that he can. Even if it’s just his shin or thigh or stomach because that’s something else Sir likes. 

But then Sir is there again, Chris is leaning forward and he’s kissing him again. And  _ oh- _

_ Oh.  _

Chris is kissing him again, and his lips feel so, so good. Hot and wanting and pushing, pushing him to be good, pushing him to listen to him like he wouldn’t, of course, just fall at his feet. If anyone was born to be a dom… it’s Chris. He doesn’t need to try to make him melt at his feet. He just exudes dominance and authority. He’s also a fantastic, natural kisser. Heat overwhelms Sebastian, licking up his skin and making him sweat, making him pant, making him forget that he’s supposed to be kissing back and not just opening his mouth and letting Chris tongue-fuck his mouth. The heat pooling throughout his entire body pushes a moan through his lips and into Chris’ mouth. Chris groans back, hunger leaking into his noise. Sebastian’s toes curl in his socks, his thighs clamping together.  _ God.  _

But then he’s pulling back. Sebastian can’t make himself move to chase him because he knows his place. He knows by the arousal humming through him, plucking him in just the right ways like a musician’s fingers to a guitar, that he can’t move. He whines anyway, shivers of need shooting through him, his  _ skin  _ even hungers for Chris. He wants him  _ so bad. _

“Take everything off.” Chris demands, his voice filling the miles between them, puppeting him without laying a finger on him. Sir is too fucking good at this. “I wanna see what’s mine.” Sebastian keels forward, throwing his weight onto Chris, if he was using his  _ dom voice  _ before then it was only at about thirty percent before. This is nearly full blown. And it’s going to kill him. His submissive instincts are screaming at him to obey Sir but he can’t. His vision is spotty with desire and his lungs are giving up on him because nothing is as important as having all his blood flow to his dick apparently. 

He sucks in a breath desperately, suffocating, and exhales it, feeling like he’s not getting any air at all, whimpering with the air that he lets go because he can’t not. Fire blazes through his stomach. There is only heat inside of him. Only want to be good and to obey. He needs to. 

He licks his lips, drawing in the lower one between his teeth chewing on it. His thoughts are barreling forward without his body. He’s drowning in want. He was just… just not feeling the best like  _ two seconds  _ ago and then Chris told him that he knew he just needed to have his exhaustion fucked out of him and he’s fucking right of course. And now he’s fucking fucking him over. He’s so hard already. He whines and digs his face a little harder into Chris’ nearly completely bare thigh, he doesn’t know where the fuck the rest of his body is, how is he supposed to get himself naked? He peers up at his dom, knowing he’s making hazy puppy dog eyes, but he can’t help it. 

He shakes his head at Sebastian, handsome and stern. Before he makes actual words he tuts at him little, practically wagging his finger at him. The heat boiling his blood rushes to his cheeks and more noises slip out of him without his consent. Sebastian buries his face, he’s a mess. 

“No,” Chris finally says, smug and unfairly hot. Sebastian’s thundering pulse jumps from one beat to the next at the single word. He sneaks a glance up at him,  _ he’s so handsome,  _ he thinks vaguely. Sir smirks right back at him, knowing somehow and tapping his cheek with a couple of fingers. Sebastian feels branded, he heaves in a breath. 

“C’mon, baby.” he drawls, “I’ve seen all those scenes like everybody else,” Sebastian  _ squeaks.  _ He fucking  _ squeaks  _ because he’s already loosing himself. All of his younger years of stripping on camera, for men and women, rushing to his mind’s eye, overwhelming him. He doesn’t have time to think about any of it before Chris is speaking again and he knows nothing but to listen to him, “you’re big boy, I know you know how to get naked.” 

He knows his eyes pop open wide and his lips fall open (thankfully without any additional embarrassing noises this time) he doesn’t need to hear Chris chuckle. But he does. His cock twitches at the dark, rich sound. His vision goes a little more foggy, his body feeling lighter and hotter at once as Sir’s fingers strokes his blood hot cheek a couple more countless times before his hand is moving away, signaling that he needs to get to work. Sebastian swallows a wail.  _ He can do it.  _

He scrambles to obey the second after he thinks it. Determined to be a good submissive. Trying to ignore his half-thought out fumbling, he’s never coordinated as he normally is when he’s slipping into subspace or is in subspace, Chris is staring into him the entire time. He can feel his eyes like his fingers, hot and demanding over his skin. Practically moving him with how easily he can feel him looking. His dumb fingers trip over themselves as they reach behind him to find the neck of his shirt, pulling it carelessly over his head. He’s grateful for the momentary shield. He knows Sir likes him like he’s on his way to being, mushy with desire, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when he knows it’s happening. 

He pauses once he has it off, staring at Sir and asking silently  _ what do you want me to do with this?  _ He’s not sure if he’s supposed to talk or if he’s not supposed to right now… but it doesn’t matter, he can feel the swell of lust rising inside of him that will steal his voice box from him. Chris loves that he gets quiet. He’s not sure Sir knows that he gets quiet because he forgets how to speak amongst the pleasure coating his brain but that’s what it is. 

Chris holds a hand out for the garment instead of telling him to speak, the smirk on his face stoking the flames just barely contained under his skin. Sebastian hands it over, sweating and blushing hotly. Chris motions with his other hand for him to keep stripping, not to wait for him, while he begins to fold his shirt. Sebastian’s skin prickles and he whines a little despite knowing exactly what his dom wants, he can feel Chris’ phantom touches along his skin and it’s all he wants. Just imagining Chris’ fingers dusting over his skin has his gut clenching. He shakes his head again and tips his chin forward- another signal to get going. It feels like he’s pushing him faster-moving things along faster, making his head spin faster, keeping him on his metaphorical toes, dancing along hot coals. Not getting burned but growing feverish instead. Hazy and hot. 

When his pants are off they’re also handed over, but this time his hands are shaking as he does it even though Sebastian doesn’t feel it. He hands over his socks clumsily and he gasps when Sir’s hand brushes his, steadying him- Sir stares down at him, intimidating and authoritative, Seb wants to show him his stomach. He wants-  _ what does he want? Besides Sir. He always wants Sir. _ Then his underwear is in his trembling hands before he notices taking them off. 

The feeling of his freed cock throbbing hits him late and he gasps, the heat of his cock polluting the rest of his body. Making his nerves sing and pulse. Blurrily he falls forward into Sir’s warm skin, drawn to him, mouthing along the bottom hem of his underwear because that’s the only thing he can think to do. The rest of his mind is occupied with so many swirling, empty thoughts, his head filled to the brim with pleasure that’s only coming from Sir. 

His mouth aches for something. He swallows once. Twice. Three times. Four. He licks the skin closest to his mouth- hypnotized by the empty feeling between his lips. Searching for something and-

“Here,” Sir whispers, deep and delicious, sending armies of shivers through him and sliding two of his fingers into his mouth at the same time that the word falls from his own lips. Sebastian registers the weight of his fingers with a moan, sucking at them, licking his dominant’s fingers and chasing the taste of his skin. Sparks fly down his esophagus, joining the embers burning hotter and hotter in his stomach. His eyes, already unseeing slip shut. His desperation ebbs for the moment and he wants to tell Sir that he’s thankful but all that will boil up out of his chest is little mewls. 

Sir rumbles back and drags the pads of his fingers over his tongue and,  _ ohhh, oh  _ that feels  _ so  _ nice. He moans, unable to let the sound stay inside of him, falling more onto his fingers, wanting more. Sir’s fingers are thick,  _ so thick,  _ and long too. 

He doesn’t remember quite how long until they meet the back of his throat. Sebastian swallows desperately, his brain irrational with desire, telling him that if he chokes Sir will just take his fingers away and won’t give them back and, no, no that would be  _ awful.  _ So he swallows. Tilts his head back. Getting away and around his gag reflex on instinct. Trying to get more even as his throat spasms uncontrollably and he tries to not choke. His mouth feels so empty and so  _ hungry.  _ And he just wants  _ more.  _

“Hey,  _ shhh,” _ Chris hushes him, dropping something to the side of his body so quickly that Sebastian can’t spare any of his attention to it, all he can do is stare up at Sir and blink away all of the tears hovering over his line of sight. All he can do is look and suck harder at his fingers. Chris rumbles something so low that Seb misses it, his hearing clogged with cotton, but his other hand comes up to his face, swiping under his eyes and letting him know that he’s been crying. It makes more tears bubble in his eyes, he doesn’t want Sir to take away his fingers because he’s struggling… he wants- he wants… wants-

Sir strokes his face for a bunch of melty, consecutive moments that don’t make any sense, letting silence hover between them. Sebastian looks at him the whole time. Desperately showing him he’s good,  _ fuck,  _ he wants to be _ good.  _ He just wants to be good. Another of Sir’s fingers slip into his mouth and relief, fresh and spills down his throat and into his bloodstream for a while. He keens, curling his toes under his butt and wiggling a little, hollowing his cheeks, making his fingers feel even bigger in his mouth. Keeping him satisfied. Keeping his mouth full. Keeping his cock urgently fattened, his pulse thrums in his tongue and in the tip of his cock. 

He whimpers and Sir coos at him, “I know,” Sebastian doesn’t have any idea what he knows. But he doesn’t care. Whatever Sir thinks he knows is more than he knows. His head is sloshy and too full and not coherent. His other hand darks away from his face. He doesn’t even flinch, he knows Sir knows better than he does. He trusts him, he loves him. 

The blur of his hand comes back into his line of sight, rough around the edges as he slips further and further down, Sir’s holding something… his, his underwear! He holds it up to his  _ burning  _ face, the fabric looking like nothing more than a scrap of a thing in his big hand. They look like there’s nothing to them. Like instead of boxer-briefs he had been wearing  _ panties.  _ He whimpers, sucks more at his fingers, dazed, running his tongue along the underside of his fingers. Squirming helplessly, pinned under the weight of Sir’s predatory gaze. Coming up blank with why he hasn’t just folded his underwear like he’s done with everything else he handed him, the only thing running through his head is  _ wanna cum, wanna be good, wanna cum, wanna be good, wanna-  _ Sir smirks and he mewls. His body lights up even more. Hotter. His cock jumps. “You need this so bad don’t you, baby,” he chuckles. His cock jumps again, like it’s a trained response to hearing his dom’s rough voice. 

“You were already leaking,” arousal hits him like a bolt of lightning, nearly striking him down, “you got hard so fast for me,” Sebastian gasps, pushing himself onto Chris’ fingers again, his throat protesting some but not as much. His eyes slide shut on their own accord. Hiding from the shame dripping hot and thick down his spine, from the flush scorching his cheeks like a horrible sunburn, and from the unbearable arousal encasing his cock, making him so hard that he’s  _ aching. _ He  _ hurts.  _

Sir tuts at him. He whines, swallows all of the drool collecting in his mouth, trembling with need. And want. Sir comes back into his view when he opens his eyes, fighting the heft of his eyelids. 

“It’s okay,” he offers darkly, “I know you can’t help it, poor thing.” He strokes a hand through his hair, down the back of his neck, and around the front to hold his throat in a soft choke hold. Sebastian shutters  _ hard,  _ his breathing gets stuck somewhere around Sir’s fingers in the top of his throat and the other hand holding the base of his throat. His blood slows it’s race through his veins while his heart tries to pump even faster, his skin feels alive in a way that it’s never when he’s not subbing, his head is spinning so fast he doesn’t know what is and and what’s down for a second or two… he can’t be sure when time seems to be bending to Sir’s will as well as him. “So, I’m gonna help you.” Chris offers, throwing his underwear back to wherever he picked them up from. Unfairly casual in his offer, his voice dark but his words normal, meaning nothing not innocent if they weren’t in this specific situation. He whimpers, lower lip trembling. 

Sebastian doesn’t even think about what that  _ help  _ might possibly be until Sir is turning his attention away from him, leaving his three fingers in his mouth but taking his gaze from him. The heat of his imposing gaze leaves and suddenly he has shivers rising all over his body, and so he sucks at and lavs his tongue over his fingers, keening desperately in the back of his throat, he doesn’t want Sir to leave. He doesn’t want him to look away. He doesn’t want-

“Seb,” he calls, still looking away, “sub.” And Sebastian  _ doesn’t like  _ that but it’s better, having Sir talk to him when he’s not looking at him. His lip still keeps trembling though. Regardless of it feeling better. Sir tuts, shaking his head, still looking away, but he spreads the three of his fingers wide in his mouth. And that’s also  _ better. A lot better.  _

His lip stops trembling and for a moment his tongue is too heavy for him to even lap at his fingers, all he can do is let his eyes roll to the back of his head. His fingers feel  _ so  _ good and so right in his mouth. Filling up his mouth. Helping him stay good. 

Sir is looking at him then, Sebastian blinks in muted surprise, back settled forward instead of turning away from him. He’s smirking. Sebastian feels  _ tiny. _ He feels meek. Like a little piece of prey, just a slip of a thing, under the paw of a top-of-the-food-chain predator. He’s not sure if it’s physically possible for his cheeks to be redder but they feel redder- hotter. His vision is swimming so much that he just gives up, shutting his eyes, letting his muscles do as they please. Falling limp in Sir’s hands. Literally. 

He taps his cheek though, “I want your eyes open right now, Sebastian.” 

Dark, carnal heat flows freely through him at the use of his full name. His fingers curl into fists. It makes his mind even more sluggish. But it makes him want to obey Sir even more because if he’s good he can have  _ more _ pleasure, more than just his fingers. More pleasure means he’ll get to cum. If he gets to cum he won’t ache so much.  _ That would be good. It’d feel really nice. _

He mewls around the spread of his fingers, prying his eyes open, slowly. Hazily peering up, following the sound of his voice. 

“There’s my good boy,” Sir says, earnest and not at all teasing. Sebastian’s stomach and hole clench. His cock jumps. He can even feel his nipples tighten a little more, his chest swelling with need and want and lust and arousal and everything hot and hard and good. He wants to crawl into Sir’s lap and beg for him to make his cock stop hurting but he wants to be his good boy even more. And he wasn’t told that he can get off yet. So he won’t. Sir’s fingers on his other hand curl under his chin, appearing to lift his face a little higher, tilting his head back and showing off his throat, “don’t you wanna know how I’m gonna help you be good. Stay good?” 

Sebastian blinks. Hears the words. Blinks and swallows and then nods, processing the words. 

And Sir smirks like he knows exactly how hard it is for him to listen and then understand him, how difficult it is to tread the waters of subspace when it would just be so much easier to dunk his head fully under, to let the current take him away. Sir uses his index finger and thumb to trace the shell of his ear, petting him like he’s a dog sitting at his feet. Desperation bursts through his chest and whimper escapes around his lips, his vision getting even more blurry, tears collecting in his eyes. His cock pulses painfully but the fingers in his mouth still have more weight. He licks them, sucking harder, his teeth still strangely aching to bite his lower lip. 

But he keeps his eyes open, he does want to know, he’s always curious. He’ll be okay with anything that Sir wants from him but he would like to know what qualifies as being good so he can do as good as possible. 

“Hmm,” Chris hums, now stroking his jaw with his fingers, the soft touches begging for his eyes to shut. He won’t close his eyes. He won’t. Sir wants his eyes open. His eyelids flutter, he groans at himself. Sir just keeps smirking, chuckling a little just under his breath. 

Sir holds something up to him. Bringing it in closer than he would if they weren’t doing a scene. Knowing his brain focuses in on other things than properly seeing what’s in front of him. It’s dark compared to the soft glow of the rest of the room. Small but not… not too small. It’s got two shapes connected together and,  _ oh.  _

Sebastian hears the moan that vibrates his throat, making it feel raw and hot, before he registers making a sound. His eyes shut, his head ducking forward with a mind of its own again, more sounds spill over his lips, dripping into the humid atmosphere between them. 

Chris is holding a pair of their cuffs. 

Sebastian knows the cuffs well, they’ve been well used in the months that they’ve had them. They’re dark leather, so brown that they look black most of the time, sturdy and thick. The middle of them is belted by another, thinner strip of leather so the size of the cuff can be adjusted - ideal for using on wrists or ankles - making it so one side of each cuff has an ‘o’ ring and the other a buckle. The ‘o’ ring is for connecting the cuffs together, the set came with several different lengths of chain, adjustable just like the cuffs themselves. Supposedly they’re durable enough and versatile enough that you should only have to ever by one set of them. 

Sebastian bought the set a couple of weeks after their first official scene, ordering them online. They’re not just expensive because of versatility or durableness… Sebastian had them customized. They’re two sets of them, for cuffs in total, a full body set, two of the four cuffs have Chris’ name engraved in the leather. It took him until their sixth month anniversary to give them to Chris… he’d been scared that it was too much. 

But. It hadn’t been. It  _ isn’t.  _

Chris, Sir, has come up with a million different reasons to use the cuffs. Just because. Seb is pretty sure he just likes seeing him tied up and seeing his name on those restraints is just the cherry on top. He doesn’t mind. He likes being tied up and regrets not getting the set that also came with a collar, fitted with ‘o’ rings at the front, back, and sides for holding him in any position Sir might’ve wanted because… he would like that- Sir would like that. He’s sure  _ now _ but wasn’t at the time. 

He nods, unsure of what to do. Staring down the restraints and trying to not buck up into thin air just at the sight of some leather and metal. And Sir’s name. Sir’s name on the leather, claiming it and claiming  _ him,  _ once he has it on. 

“Ankles or wrists?” Sir asks, his smirk still present, his eyes searching his face- less of the dominating smugness slips into his words and more of his regular, caring voice appears. 

_ Ankles or wrists?  _ Sebastian thinks, hazy, feeling like he’s not really kneeling on the ground but hovering above it, he can hear the words echo again and again in his head without making any additional sense at any point. Just repeats of them, nothing else, nothing more.  _ What?  _ H _ e’s already sitting down? He’s kneeling? Why would he need his ankles tied? Why would he need his wrists tied? _ He’s not gonna-

“I want you to be good,” Sir breathes, explaining in a slow and extra smooth voice, making sure he understands, making the hairs rise on his arms and back of his neck, “I want to  _ help  _ you stay good. If I tied your ankles it’ll be so you don’t squirm too much, get too far away,” Sebastian flushes, sucking in a couple of desperate, thin breathes around Chris’ fingers. Blessedly still sitting in his mouth. Sir smirks at the sloppy little sounds he makes. “If I tied your wrists it’ll be so you don’t get too excited and try to use your hands.” He whimpers, embarrassed by how well Sir has him pegged, “I’m not gonna punish you if you do either but I don’t want you to do either of those things if you can help it, got it, sub?” 

_ Don’t move too much. No hands. Don’t move too much. No hands. Don’t move too much. No hands. No hands. No hands. Don’t- _

“Mmm,” Sebastian hums sloppily around Sir’s fingers, figuring that he must be waiting for an answer. He could nod, probably, but he doesn’t want to move and he could pull off of Sir’s fingers, if he tried maybe, to actually talk but he doesn’t want to do that either. He wants to stay exactly where he is. Rooted to the ground, taking Sir’s fingers like a good boy. Blinking and drooling and getting his mouth filled. That’s all he wants to do. 

“Sebastiannn-” Sir drawls, dragging out the syllables of his name, making his muscles tense, his back straightening in trained response. His heart speeds up, kicking against his ribs. His eyes blink open suddenly, shooting up to Sir’s face. He’s not smirking. He’s not frowning or looking disappointed either though. Sebastian deflates a little, but his teeth still scream to bite down on his lower lip even though he  _ can’t.  _ So he swallows a couple of times, trying his hardest to not let his lower lip tremble, trying to not let tears pooling in his eyes fall. Sir spreads his fingers apart. His eyes shut instantly, rolling to the back of his head at the heavenly feeling. Sir brings his fingers together and Sebastian can feel the whine building in his chest but then Sir spreads his fingers again. He brings them together, spreads them, brings them together, spreads them, and the cycle goes on. Dizzying Sebastian, making the stars behind his eyes spin and tilt. Making his cock leak against his stomach, desperation swathing him. Clinging to his muscles and making his entire body beat to the pulse of his heart. 

_ “Pick one, baby.” _

Oh.  _ Fuck.  _ Fuck, he didn’t-

His embarrassment curdles into little noises that spill out around Sir’s restless fingers, barely loud enough to be heard over the wet sounds of his fingers fucking his mouth. Not loud enough for Seb to even hear, just to feel them, his ears are still ringing. But he can hear his heartbeat in his ears too. He knows what he wants. He wants his hands tied. But- but he can’t get it out of his brain and onto his lips and tongue.  _ He can’t- _

Sir pulls his fingers out of his mouth. 

And Sebastian just starts crying. It just happens. 

Desperation swells inside of him like a wave, building and crashing over him. Breaking him into tiny pieces with the force, cracking over him, making his skin buzz and hum with phantom hurt. His cock weeps too, aching. Tears just start spilling over, running down onto his cheeks and slipping down to his jaw, heating his face. And he doesn’t know  _ why.  _ He just- he just… Sir just took away his fingers and, and- he sniffles, maybe sobs, none of his own sounds make sense to him. Everything is blurry and achy and he wants, he wants to be  _ good.  _ And why can’t he even  _ talk?  _ How is he supposed to be good if he can’t talk? How is he supposed to-

Both of Sir’s hands cup either side of his face, the heat of his palms making their way through to him before his words can, little whispers and coos of  _ hey, hey, Seb, baby, hey you’re okay. You’re okay. It’s okay. You’re good, you weren’t bad. You’re okay. I love you. Hey. Seb. Sub. Baby-  _ meaningless words that all blend together into something that’s just one stream of soft, comforting sounds. Sebastian can feel how one of his hands is wet with his drool, his fingers soaked from sitting in his mouth of course, but his palm is wet too. His drool has dripped down his skin, coating his skin with his mess. 

He bites his lower lip on instinct, sucking on it a little, pulling it farther into his mouth, chasing the satisfaction of having his mouth full. He’s probably still crying. He can’t tell. His vision is blurry with leftover tears or with current tears, his eyes are puffy, filled with extra tears, his tongue is too big, and his muscles are too tight. 

“Breathe, sub,” Sir’s voice suddenly is loud and clear. He chokes in a big breath, even more eager to be good now. The fire inside of him flares once as his lungs expand, gorging on the oxygen. His heart thuds, kicking at his chest and reminding him that he needs to get his shit together because his balls are so  _ tight  _ and ready and his cock is  _ aching. _ His eyelashes stick together when he tries to open his eyes, tears of  _ no don’t go _ building on tears of lust. His pathetic mewls get stuck behind his lip, still clamped between his teeth, building up at the top of his throat with the rock that’s settled there. He swallows, it sticks there. 

“There you go,” Chris softens, his non-drool soaked hand scratching through his hair, not that it matters, Sebastian would happily have his hair slicked back with his own spit if Sir did it for him. Sebastian registers blank blackness before his eyes before he registers shutting his eyes. His fingernails feel  _ so  _ nice against his scalp. He sniffles anyway, his teeth clamp down tighter on his lower lip, embarrassment shooting up his spine to collar his neck, choking him.

His thoughts spin haphazardly, none making any sense, just all jumbled together. He drops his jaw open a little though, obeying something that is incoherent but there- deep in the back of his muddled, space-y mind. Letting his lower lip be free from his teeth, his lips trying to shape an apology instead. His mouth feels even more empty with his lips open. 

Sir beats him to it, “I’m sorry, sub,” he says. 

Sebastian whines. Louder than he means to. It just slips out. Distress rising in his stomach, up his throat, and accidentally out of his mouth like a lava flow from a volcano-  _ Sir doesn’t need to be sorry! _

“No- honey, don’t do that.” Sebastian hangs his head, pressing his lips to the nice skin of the inside of Sir’s thigh despite the words;  _ no,  _ rings through his head especially loudly. He’s warm and it feels nice. It feels good. He keeps doing it, his skin is soft under the smattering of blonde hair, it’s nice, it’s kind of like when he kisses the corner of Sir’s mouth and gets mostly just his beard against his own lips. “It’s not your fault,” he disagrees but can’t bring his mind to move fast enough to object before Sir’s continuing anyway, “I should’ve told you I wanted to get something else for you, for us, and needed both of my hands for it,” he chuckles and that’s  _ definitely  _ a good sound, Seb pushes more into his thigh, basking in the body heat and closeness, “I know better than to tease you like that. Sir just forgot, okay? He got too excited.” 

Sebastian mumbles something that sounds like it might’ve been planned to be words even though he doesn’t know what they would’ve been. Sir, Chris, understands. He licks his lips at the mention of teasing. Running his teeth over his tongue, the discomfort of having his mouth empty getting the best of him. 

If Sir notices he doesn’t comment on it, he just pets him more, “gimme your safewords if you wanna keep going, Seb.” 

He can do that.  _ He can! He will.  _ His mind is mush though, it takes a couple of moments to spoon through the soup of his brain, finding the feelings and then the letter and then the words. 

“Green, yell’w…” he whines, hoping that that mess of a sound is recognizable as yellow to Sir, he doesn’t want to have to repeat it and waste time and adds “red,” in a whisper. He doesn’t want the scene to stop. He doesn’t want him to think he’s trying to call red. The need in his throat isn’t letting him explain anything further. It’s too much work. He wants Sir to do the work, to decide for him, to carry the knowledge between the two of them.

“Good,” Sir rumbles, sending tingles down Sebastian’s neck, making his muscles go weak. Just at one word. His back arches a little deeper under the weight of it too when Chris repeats himself under his breath, not intending to have him hear it probably. 

“We can keep going then. Use your words if you need them,” Sebastian snorts when he catches the reminder, taking a moment to understand him, and Sir tugs his hair enough for him to feel it. He gasps. Pleasure swims under the surface of his skin invitingly, calling to him. “Hey, I mean it, you know that. but I gotta know, sub, if you still want to be tied up or not.” His eyes flutter shut and then open, catching a brief glimpse of Sir’s raised eyebrow, his excitement heats back to a boil from a simmer inside him. Raising his temperature, escaping him and getting to the atmosphere between them. Electric and tense in the best way. Being tied up sounds extra nice now. His veins fill with arousal, carrying it straight to his still hard cock. He pants a little, trying to discern if he’s begun leaking again or not, he aches too much to really feel anything beyond the hot pulse of desperation barely concealed under his skin. His balls are heavy and tight, ready to spill, they ache just as much as his cock. The overwhelming lust fueled desperation takes his words away from him with the distraction of embers sparking back to a full-fledged fire, melting his insides. 

“Do you want that now?” Sir reminds him, his voice coming from above him again, sounding farther away this time though. 

Blindly Sebastian tilts his head back into Sir’s hot, wide palm, seeking the safety of his grip; knowing he’ll be there. Trying to find where he’s gone even as he faintly, faintly registers that he’s the one who’s gone somewhere else, dropping deeper into subspace. Even though his thighs are still heavy in the corners of his vision, entrapping him pleasantly, keeping him on his knees. Hazily Sir sits above him, handsome and effortlessly in charge, wide shoulders curled in a little as he leans forward, poised to take care of him. His eyes are locked on him and his lips pulled up into something of a smirk that means more than he can comprehend at the moment, attention purely on him. Sebastian burns hotter. Brighter. “Wannt, want m’ wrists,” he fumbles, tripping through thoughts and over his lips, not thinking in the slightest about looking from his dark, wanting eyes. 

“Mmm,” Sir hums, dragging the moment gloriously out, nodding slowly, “we can do that, honey. ‘Course.” Sebastian wiggles a little with his excitement, flooding with sparkling anticipation, dragging heavenly over his skin. Sir’s so good to him. So nice. Sir makes him so hard; he makes him cum so hard. 

Sebastian gets so caught up in the heat and pulse and throb of his own body, his own desire hypnotizing him feeling two times too big for his own body, that he doesn’t see Sir move. Well, he doesn’t notice him move. He doesn’t notice that he’s not staring up at his big, heavy frame anymore and is just staring into space. Looking at the ceiling and panting and drooling a little, lips parted with need. He doesn’t notice that his thighs are no longer locked onto either side of his shoulders, pressing into him deliciously. He doesn’t notice that he gets up and kneels behind him, locking his wrists together and claiming him with the dark, heavy, engraved leather. 

Until he does. 

And then he gasps and sags back into him. Mewling a little, pulling at his bonds when Sir murmurs,  _ “there,”  _ signifying that he’s finished. The word gets pressed into the nape of his neck with a knee-buckling, hot, possessive kiss that melts even Sebastian’s bones. He pulls at them again when Sir kisses a path of lava-hot kisses up his neck because wants to feel them more. He’s living in a dream state but he wants the tough hold of the leather to be fresh in his mind. 

Sir strokes a hand down his naked back as his lips finally stay in one spot. Sucking a hickey into the side of his neck and tracing the rivulets of sweat that have dripped down his bare skin at the same time- he shivers violently at the sensation. At the easy way he plays him. Feeling pleasure sink its claws further into him, breathlessly moaning because he can’t do anything but that. That or tugging again at the bonds. Envisioning the way his name looks, where it’s stamped into the leather. Proclaiming him as his submissive, forever and always. He feels like he might cum without a hand on him. 

_ “Luvvv’, love you.” _ Sebastian slurs, tilting his head all the way back so he can see Sir working, his cheek hot and sweaty against his neck. He’s touching him and making him shiver, Sebastian doesn’t even know what he’s really doing he just knows it feels so fucking good, bringing him pleasure in core-clenching waves. Sir chuckles, warm and deep. Sebastian sighs, his cock twitching in interest, urgent but not more urgent than anything that Sir might ask of him. 

Chris leans forward, "I love you too, pretty," his fingers gripping his sides securely, not tightly yet, and tugs his head back into a kiss without a word. Commanding him as easily as he breathes, Sebastian stops thinking. Moaning before their mouths even meet, just letting go of the noise. Sir’s hands bite into him with their heat, not with their strength- he doesn’t need to paint him with fingerprint bruises to make a masterpiece of him. He doesn’t need force to control him. He doesn’t even need words. 

Over his shoulder their lips meet. 

Sir’s lips are hot and smooth against his, he can feel his heavy breaths, he can feel the little exhalations of air that don’t quite have enough grit behind them to be groans or growls or moans, he can feel everything. He can feel how much Sir cares about him, how much he loves him, _ how much he wants him. _ His tongue slides over his lower lip and automatically he opens up for him, letting his lips relax even more, craving the feeling of his tongue between his lips, taking whatever he wants from him. Sebastian moans, forgetting that he needs to kiss back, panting even while Sir kisses the fuck out of him. Losing himself. Pleasure’s crescendo makes it impossible to pay attention to anything but the terribly desperate need inside of him, spreading through him rapidly, and how good it all feels. 

Sebastian’s cuffed wrists get trapped between their heated bodies when Sir’s hands tug at him again, wanting him closer. His eyes are shut but they flutter open and closed and then roll back into his head, and his mouth dries as he feels the shape of Chris through his boxers. Hot and heavy. Ready and wanting for  _ him.  _ He can’t even moan. He can’t speak, he’s stunned. Stuck dumb by desire to have Sir’s cock inside of him. Fucking and filling him up. Stuffing him full. 

His hips find some resilient strength left inside of his jelly-muscles from somewhere, rolling back into the hot, thick shape of him without any finesse and it unlocks a wrecked, high moan from somewhere within him. He can’t even feel him against his ass… not yet. But,  _ god- _

Sir chuckles. 

Right in his ear. Seb doesn’t even know when they stopped kissing or when he moved to have his lips right against his ear, he doesn’t know what the  _ fuck _ is happening. But he likes it. 

Shivers burst through him, seizing his muscles and making his cock twitch along with his hips. A ragged, unidentifiable but desperate sound makes its way out of his lips. He feels his own pre-cum drip down his shaft once more, wetting him even more and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed.  _ Fuck.  _ His thighs press into each other with his desire, his muscles tensing and jumping with impulsive desire to hump forward but also backwards. He wants Sir inside of him. In his mouth. In his ass. He wants it. He wants it all. 

“Feel how hard I am for you, sub?” Sir rumbles, using  _ that  _ voice he has to melt him like butter. Sebastian gasps, nodding sloppily, on the edge of hyperventilating.  _ “Yeah,” _ he says smugly, “I know you do. You like it so much, I can see how it makes you shake, feelin’ me.” He whimpers, hot embarrassment added to the record heat levels inside of him. He wants to crawl away from Sir and hide but he also wants, even more, to crawl to him and take him inside of him. To feel him and taste him and know him and  _ everything.  _ He shake apart into nothing that he can ever put into words. 

Chris kisses the side of his face, near his ear, lingering to let his lips drag sensually over his hyper-sensitive skin, “makes me even harder.” Sebastian sucks in a pathetic breath. Beyond turned on. “It does,” he laughs, slinging an arm around his waist so all of his weight falls on him, making Sebastian depend on him to stay somewhat upright. “It turns me on so, so much, watching you lose your goddamn mind over me. Letting me turn you to mush, baby.” His pulse is rapid and relentless in his ears, he whines but barely, desperation strangling him. 

There’s a moment of nothing. A moment of silence and sexual tension. 

Sebastian doesn’t know much, being as much of a mess of submissive mush as he is, but he knows Sir is letting him have a breather before something bigger. 

“I’m gonna get up and sit back on the couch-” Sebastian opens his eyes and turns, moving through thick, sugary syrup, to meet Sir’s. He knows non-negotiable orders when he hears them. Approval sits happily in his eyes. His vision swims just seeing it- knowing he’s doing well. “And you’re gonna get back to kneeling for me,” he rolls his neck to the side, putting his face closer to his, Sir smiles at him for his trouble, “but-” 

Sebastian could live in the moment of that pause. Wanting and waiting.

“You’re gonna keep me warm this time, okay?” 

Sebastian could faint. 

He could. 

He’s gonna keep Sir warm. He’s gonna get to have him in his mouth. He’s gonna get to have his cock… his big, thick, hard,  _ heavy  _ cock. His body is more than melted with his molten arousal, it’s something beyond that. His eyelids are heavier than anything he had to lift for training to become the winter soldier. His skin is on fire and his nerves are singing. His balls are full to the brim. His cock is harder than fucking anything. Aching and hot and not as difficult to ignore as Sir’s cock. He wants Sir’s cock in his mouth more than he wants to cum. And he  _ really  _ is desperate. 

He’s desperate but his mouth is empty, saliva floods his mouth. Whimpers spill from his lips, along with the needy words of, “yes,  _ yes, please!”  _

Palms flat to his back, fingers pointed down towards the floor, Sir pushes him upright. Dragging his hands up his back to his shoulders, slowly getting him to move. He sways sitting up. Not used to his own weight all of the sudden. Sir says something but he can’t make it out, not when he’s on the horizon of getting his cock in his mouth. He nods blurrily to whatever it is, making another helpless noise. 

Sir settles back down on the couch in front of him after just a second - or after what feels like a second - of being out of his eyesight,  _ but  _ this time he hasn’t got any underwear on. Sebastian actually drools when his mouth falls open but Chris doesn’t mention it. He stretches to the side instead, pulling a bottle of lube out of nowhere, getting a little into one of big, broad palms and getting that hand around himself. 

Sebastian’s own neglected, throbbing cock weeps in want, seeing what it can’t have. Not with his hands tied behind his back. Decorated with Sir’s cuffs. 

Sir moans, stroking himself tightly. Bucking up into his own fist once, twice, groaning under his breath which has begun to heave even more. His chest moving sharply with his powerful breaths, his hard chest is shining with sweat, his right pec, bicep, and forearm flexing and twitching mouth-wateringly as he works himself over. Bulging with the effort. Sebastian moans, gutted, tugging hard at his bindings, twitching into nothing but air, wishing it was Sir’s thigh or hand or stomach instead. 

He lets go of his cock then. It smacks back against his abs with an obscene noise. More drool pools in Sebastian’s mouth, another noise works its way out of his throat and into the heated air. 

“Almost, baby,” he grunts, touching himself a little more, “one second and you can play as much as you like,” the words make no sense to his muddled, lust-dumb ears but he pays that no mind. Seb just listens to the timbre of his voice, both entirely present and listening and thinking about all the times Sir has talked him to his finish at once. Using his voice and scarcely his hands, telling him how good and pretty he is, how he’s the best sub ever, until he can’t not spill over himself. Untouched and gutted with his pleasure. Crying and probably screaming at the final release. 

He stretches out again. The muscles of his chest, shoulder, and arm moving hypnotizingly. And he puts something in front of Sebastian’s face, returning to his center of gravity. Sitting and waiting for him to recognize the hazy shape in front of his face. 

It’s a cock ring. 

Sebastian’s breath disappears, going from a shaky rhythm to having no rhythm at all. His head swims even more. Sounds dripping from him like sweat or tears might, even though he doesn’t feel like he’s taking in any oxygen. Sparks fly hot and heavy through him. He doesn’t know if Sir is going to put that on himself or him and the danger of it is nothing more but more erotic, adding more arousal to the hurricane of it. Wrecking through his insides, keeping him suspended in agony. Wanting more pleasure and wanting release at the same time. Wanting to be kept like a desperate pet in heat at his dominant’s feet and wanting to be unraveled completely by his dominant. He’s torn.

Sir slides the ring onto himself without any more words. He sighs and sags back into the couch when it’s on, gleaming against the base of his engorged cock. Silver and bright in comparison to the blood-dark red of his hard, wanting flesh. Letting his thighs spread even farther apart, one of his arms going to the back of the couch while the other beckons him forward with a curl of his fingers- bringing him forward as if he doesn’t have a choice. As if he really did get that bondage set that came with a collar and leash. Sir takes up all the space he possibly could and doesn’t even think about it once, nevermind twice. Confident in his skin. Expecting him to follow orders because he knows he’s trained him well. 

Sebastian floats closer, he doesn’t move closer- he  _ floats.  _ He floats down onto Sir’s cock too, taking him into his throat, and he floats when he stays there. Still and whole. Content in a way that doesn’t come from anything else. 

His cock is achy and hot and he thought he needed to cum but having his mouth full, stuffed with Chris’ cock, makes him realize that really he just  _ wanted _ it. He didn’t  _ need  _ it, he wanted it - badly - but still just wanted it. What he needs is  _ this. _ Not to cum but to have Sir, heavy and musky and hot and thick on his tongue, taking up all the space of his mouth and throat. Filling him up and satisfying him, righting his entire world. Making it tilt back to be flat rather than walking on an angled floor all of the time. 

His cock is as it always is- everything he wants and needs and more. Thick enough to make his lips ache from stretching wide around him but not thick enough to really hurt him, he’ll ache later but the first bite of a stretch is already fading, letting him settle even further down. His cock is long too, picture perfect as the rest of him is, teasing the back of his throat even as he just starts to take more of him. He’s long enough to test his gag reflex, something that he thought was long gone until Sir agreed to try throat fucking him. He swallows, floats down farther, swallows a couple of times, and takes a breath through his nose. Leaning even farther into Sir. The aching want in his mouth settles. His instincts whisper for him to hollow his cheeks and he does. They tell him to sink deeper. He does. He hears Sir hiss and groan deeply, somewhere above him, far away. 

He startles a little when his lips brush the cool metal of the ring rather than more flaming, velvety flesh but gets through it easily - desire demands that he take it - and inhales, taking in the deep, masculine scent of him. His nose buried in the well-groomed hair at the base of his cock. Throat contracting and swallowing around him, not because his body doesn’t want it but because it does. He wants all of him. Every drop of pre-cum he wants to swallow. Every inch of him he wants to taste. Every bit of heat from his arousal he wants to soak in. 

Everything around him blurs together, none of it matters. 

The only thing that does is Sir’s cock, heavy and wide in his mouth and throat. Soft but hard- it feels so good to run his tongue over him so he does. He’s so hot and close and he wants him closer so he sucks in his cheeks the little amount that he can, pressing more of himself to Sir. He tastes so good so he keeps swallowing. He keeps suckling him, laving his tongue over as much of him as he can when he’s stuffed so full, breathing when he can bear to pull back a little, dizzy with either oxygen deprivation or with desire. It doesn’t matter. They are one in the same. 

His vision is barely there, blurry and over-exposed so he shuts his eyes. Sinking that last little bit into the call of the golden void of subspace, feeling his body start to glow and be cushioned on a cloud of haze. His head filled with white noise. His body is filled with heat that’s not too hot, softening him- nothing can touch him. His feet come up off the ground. 

“Sub.”

The word is pushed softly through the atmosphere of gold and clouds and powdered sugar- making its way to his ears. He knows it’s Sir talking to him, he knows his voice anywhere whether it’s excited, anxious, or monotone. Right then, his voice is raspy, slow and low, like it’s been dragged through gravel. He caresses his ears, tugging him down but not far enough down to leave the bubble he’s in. 

“Sub,” the call comes again after who knows how long, Sir’s voice is just as kind. Just as rough and low and yummy. It’s a little louder, a little clearer this time. Followed immediately by another call of the word, the title. His title. “Sub.” 

This time something inside of him loosens and he whines, or, he thinks about whining. He probably doesn’t actually whine- the weight of cock in his throat and on his tongue tells him that he probably doesn’t make a sound. He sucks harder on Sir’s cock, re-realizing that he’s in his mouth. Rejoicing with the sensation. 

Sir sighs, it’s a good noise. The sigh. 

Sir’s hand tightens where it’s resting in his hair, not tugging him anywhere but just giving the strands some tightness. It feels nice. So does his cock, in his mouth, so he hollows his cheeks with the effort that it takes to suck him. Sir’s hand tightens and then spasms in his hair. A moan happens after- when he doesn’t stop sucking. 

“Sebastian,” Sir says, breathless and strung out. 

Sebastian swallows and the thought of pulling away crosses his mind, feathery and light in the way it dances over the front of his consciousness. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know if he can. His eyes are - or might be - still closed even. 

Sir’s fingers curl in his hair, tugging his head up a little this time, but not much. Sebastian moans around the comforting, satisfying weight of him, not concerned with not having that extra little half an inch of cock stuffed into him when the buzzing at his scalp feels so nice. Sir moans right back. Loud and clear. Growling a little with the sound. 

“Baby,” Sir speaks again, something new coloring his otherwise soothing voice,  _ “baby,” _ he groans and,  _ ah,  _ he sounds  _ unhinged. _ Desperate even. Sebastian connects the dots with sloppy penmanship, he’s sucking Sir and Sir needs to cum.  _ Must’ve done a good job-  _ he thinks clumsily, slow and dazed with his arousal and submission. “Gonna kill me,” his desperate voice rumbles through Sebastian’s body like thunder, vibrating his skin pleasantly. Sebastian groans too, he likes being good, so good for Sir. Sir’s gonna cum because of him. 

Sir tugs him up farther with the hand in his hair, caressing his face with the other hand as he pants, “fuck, sub, I can’t. You- you’re too good at that.” 

Sebastian’s toes curl against the cloud housing him, keeping him floating. The words  _ “too good”  _ bouncing around in his head, hitting him like a sedative. Pleasure like teasing, feather-light fingertips drag up the insides of his thighs. Teasing him, pulling away before cupping his indescribably hard and aching cock. He whimpers, more present now with his need than he was before. 

“I- I gotta,” Sir continues, panting, “I can’t take it- lemme, lemme take you to bed Seb.” 

_ Bed. Bed. Be- _

Going to bed means getting _ fucked. _

The thought-  _ the realization _ hits Sebastian over the head like a lead pipe and he can’t stop the moan that bursts out of him. His heart rate kicks up. He chokes a little on Sir’s cock, filling up his mouth and getting in the way of his ragged breaths. His ragged want to breath. His legs have fallen asleep and are filled with static below him but he knows he must be squirming. He just can’t feel it. He tugs at his cuffs to deal with the bubbling over feeling, dreamily gasping at the impressive hold of the custom bonds. 

“Yeah, yeah, honey, c’mon,” Sir encourages him, helping him pull off of his cock with another couple of tugs to his hair, “wanna fuck you and cum in you that way.” 

Sebastian mewls as Sir’s cock leaves his mouth, drool wetting his lips and corners of his mouth as well as his chin while even more of his saliva is coating Chris’ cock. He’s still hard and glimmering, wet from his mouth, and Sebastian wonders, for a heady moment, if Sir came into his mouth while he was really, really floating and he didn’t notice but he got hard again after because his knees are telling him that he must’ve spent a long time kneeling and sucking him… but,  _ no,  _ as erotic as the thought is- sir has the cock ring on.  _ How could he forget? _

His mouth feels achy, empty, and  _ wrong  _ as he slips away but it’s bearable this time because his nearly useless vision catches the quick jerk of Sir’s head, beckoning him up. He wants Sir to touch him. If he’s in his lap he  _ has  _ to touch him. Sebastian tries to follow the silent command but he stumbles, not even getting halfway to rising before his legs collapse. Muscles shaking as he looks down. Complaining after being folded for so long. 

He whines and stares up blearily at Sir- tears obscuring his vision again.

Sir clicks his tongue as if to say  _ poor sub  _ but he leans forward and collects his clumsy, melted body. Getting him to standing before cupping the backs of his knees and folding his legs down again. Bringing him up to sit in his lap in just a moment. Hands big and sweltering and  _ all  _ over him. Sebastian keens with relief that he didn’t know he would have. Feeling his hands on his body quenching something that had been writhing inside of him. Sir’s hands melt from his chest to his sides to his arms to his thighs to his back to his ass. They linger on his ass. 

Sebastian pants, melting forward onto Sir’s chest, his head pillowed in the junction of his shoulder and neck. His face is wet and sticky, tears and sweat and pre-cum or lube probably, and Sir’s skin is wet with sweat. Their skin slides against one another’s in a way that should be erotic but is. Sebastian gets so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t question or register the movement of his dom. He’s just feeling so much-

And then he  _ moans. _

As loud as he can with his throat as wonderfully raw as it is, abused by Chris’ cock; he’s blind with sudden arousal, his body smoldering under the flames. Flames that are hot but distant, like he’s standing off from a bonfire, close enough to know and feel the heat but not enough to see the logs being burned. He doesn’t know what the fuck feels so good until it happens again. Want and need and relief breaking through him. Crumbling him from the head down, turning to ashes under the ever burning inferno between them. 

Sir has his hands on his ass, his strong fingers digging into him and getting his body under his spell. Having him roll forward into his hip. Making him move, giving him something to grind into. Using his own strength and demanding nothing from Sebastian. 

He moans again, trembling, panting and unable to take in any actual oxygen, just making desperate noises instead. Going through the motions of breathing while he drowns in flames that are consuming him. His cock is leaking so much that the only reason he knows he hasn’t cum yet is because Sir would’ve stopped after working him through it after he came. And he’s still moving him like he weighs nothing. 

He can’t feel his legs but it feels so so so so good. So good. 

It feels so goddamn good until it feels unbearably good, so good that he stops moaning and painting and just has his mouth hanging open. He hangs his head forward a little more and rolls his shoulders back bringing his tied wrists lower, over the swell of his ass, and trying, helplessly, to make more room for the feelings filling his chest. Pleasure ballooning inside of him so intensely that he’s worried he’s going to burst as he cums. 

Sir stops moving him though. He knows every single one of his tells. 

He starts crying. 

Biting his lip and whimpering, sniffling here and there, trying to not just sob loudly and openly even though that’s exactly what he wants to do. His body is so used to submission that he doesn’t even try to move into the perfect friction of Sir’s hip. He can’t. He’s useless without his dominant. He sits and stews, cooling off, eyes shut tight, teeth digging into his lip, cheek pressed to his shoulder, his cock just a little too far from him to get any friction. Pathetic sounds of denial ringing through his head like he’s not the one who’s making them. 

Sir groans like he was the one denied. Sebastian mewls back. Pouting and crying- he doesn’t know what to do otherwise. He might drown if he gets swept up in the stream of carnal desperation pounding through him. 

“Fuck,  _ fuck-” _ Sir breathes, chuckling a little like he does when he gets overwhelmed in a good way, his chest rising and falling impressively against him. Sebastian tries to get his breathing to the same pattern as Sir’s. Trying to deflate and not focus on the agony of want throbbing through his groin, screaming for his attention, but he’s not sure it works at all. He’s too tightly wound. 

“Gotta get you to bed,” Sir muses, “then you can cum.” Sebastian nods frantically, dizzily, unthinkingly against his pulse point, his tears soaking into his sweaty skin. Focusing on Sir’s hands which have moved up to rest at his lower back and not over his ass, possessive and starved. It’s the only sensation he has that’s not pounding and throbbing for release as soon as possible. That and the cotton orbit of his head, soft and swaying. 

Sir sets him on their king size mattress slowly. The sheets are soft and cool against his back, sticking to his damp, hot skin, clinging and feeling more uncomfortable than usual with his heightened temperature. His arms lower him down gently and deposit him. 

He knows, faintly, that Chris carried him there because he knows there was no way he walked the rest of the journey to their bedroom, not when his legs are nothing but a tiny hum under the cacophony of his brain. Not when moving his lips and tongue in correct succession is too hard to manage. And Sir is so strong.  _ Strong and handsome,  _ he thinks dumbly, watching Sir climb into bed after him under the weight of his eyelids. His vision is hazy, dimmer than it should be, clouded with endorphins. All of his muscles are rippling and bulging. The sight takes the little bit of breath he had left away. Leaving him in a puddle against the mattress. 

Sir pulls at his ankle. 

First his fingers wrap around his right, encircling the skin, and then the left. In turn his legs are pulled apart. Spread for Sir to settle in between. Ripples of warmth expand out through his body, his lips fall open a little wider despite not being commanded. 

He doesn’t even notice the little bit of discomfort from having his cuffed wrists trapped between his own body and the bed, all he notices is the look in Sir’s eyes and how desperate it makes him feel. It makes his skin itch, hot and needy, it makes his toes curl, it makes his cock twitch against his abs, it makes his arousal grow impossibly bigger. It makes his world shrink to the bed and then even more, closer in, encasing only them. He doesn’t think about his wrists. All he thinks about is Sir and the want calling, calling, calling under his skin. 

Chris notices though, naturally, attuned to him.

He tsks, mostly to himself, and prowls forward. Moving from between his legs - admiring and staring down at his bare skin - making him sweat even more, and wordlessly pulls him up off the bed. Unlocking his wrists and running joyous fingers over his skin. 

Sebastian hears himself keen but his body doesn’t decide whether it’s from worry of them being removed completely or whether it’s from his need boiling over at finally being touched again. His body doesn’t decide until Sir hushes, “‘m gonna put them back on pretty, jus’ don’t wanna hurt your hands, ‘kay?” He was worried about them being taken away. He stops whimpering and Sir,  _ so smart,  _ takes it as the yes that it is. 

His wrists are taken into his hands and guided to the front of his body, he shuts his eyes, lulled by the magic touch of his dominant. His dominant takes his wrists above his head; he doesn’t complain, in fact, he wriggles under the new restraints. Accepting them with… well, not  _ really  _ with  **open arms** but… close enough. 

He’s giggling aloud, slurred and drunken and Sir chuckles, “I know. I know,” he murmurs. 

His fingers push against his lax lips and it should be alarming. Sebastian doesn’t know alarmed. All he knows is  _ yes, yes, yes please. Please. More.  _ His lips are still slick, Sir’s fingers trace the wetness and spread it over him some more. Like he’s painting him. His fingers push into between his lax lips and rapture bursts across Sebastian’s tongue, slowing his world to nothing but  _ fullness, _ a moan bubbles up from his throat to join the fingers in his mouth. He sucks at them. Feeling his cock ache. He wants his fingers in his mouth. He wants his fingers in his hole. He wants his fingers touching him everywhere. He wants it all. 

_ “Good boy,” _ Sir rasps, somewhere else. Sebastian is somewhere else. One of them is. Or- maybe both of them are? Maybe they’re somewhere else together. Sebastian likes that idea. 

The fingers disappear but even before Sebastian can wade through the ecstasy encasing him like syrup or honey he feels Sir’s fingers between his legs, scorching hot and wet. He stops trying to open his eyes. Ecstasy times two floods his body, filling ever bit of empty space, taking him over. Puppeting him, making him whine and moan and push back against the tease of fingertips at his hole.  _ More. More. Anything. Anything you want to do to me. I’ll do anything.  _

A shy fingertip ventures further into him, pushing a moan out of him, there’s no room for it in his body now. There’s too much boiling arousal and heady, thick pleasure and,  _ god,  _ Sir’s fingers are thick too.  _ So  _ thick. Thick and long and he keeps pushing, pushing, and pushing. His stomach clenches, his fingers curl into fists, his head buzzes. 

The fingertip retreats. His eyes must blink open because Sir is there, fuzzy and out of focus but there. Seb mewls, his head feels top heavy to keep looking at him. He lets the back of his head meet the mattress. He sees the extra length of chain holding the chain between his cuffs to the headboard. He sees the ceiling. He sees the hazy, dark edges of his vision, enclosing politely with every beat of additional pleasure. The pulse-pounding pressure of it making the comforting walls push in, sending him higher, deeper-

His eyes roll back into his head. His throat burns with the intensity of the noise that pushes out of him. His hole flutters and his internal muscles try to contract. All at once. Everything happens at once. Everything is so, so good. Feels so good. Like his blood has been drained and replaced with pleasure, like everything in him has been replaced with pleasure. Like his brain is devoted to nothing but mapping out more and more pleasure, rewiring and learning how the  _ fuck  _ something can feel so good. 

There’s hot wetness over his face. He’s crying or drooling or something. 

Sir’s hand is around his cock, stroking him slowly. One of Chris’ fingers is sliding into him, easier this time, slicker. Pushing and probing  _ deeper. _ Massaging his insides, opening him up, testing to see how soon he’ll be able to take his cock. Stretching him, exploring him- except, no, Sir owns him, he doesn’t need to explore. He’s been inside of him enough to know everything about him, about his body, about his hole especially. Like how the stretch of his first finger always makes his eyes roll back. How his mouth will hang open. Sir knows him better than he knows himself. 

Sebastian tries to moan, he chokes instead. Sir keeps stroking him. He turns his head to the side, trying to get away from the rising tide of pleasure but finding it the same and so he turns his head again. Finding it the same. He chokes again, his insides winding and winding and winding, pulling tight and hot and tight with pleasure. With pressure. With- with…

There’s another finger at the entrance.

He cries out, wanting and needing and begging. He tries to pull his hands to his face, forgetting with the onslaught of pleasure that his wrists are still attached to the bed. He yanks hard, revels in the sparkly pinpricks of pain that swim down his arms, gasping. 

_ “Nnng-!”  _ He whimpers, restlessly trying to pull his legs apart even further, his cock twitching and pulsing. Jumping without Sir’s grip all of the sudden, lonely and achy. 

Sir’s grip is pinching him - gathering his inner thigh between strong fingertips - his voice is telling him,  _ “no. _ Don’t pull, Seb.” 

His tone leaves no room for an argument, it leaves no room for anything but his submission. Sebastian’s arms stop pulling, he whines and the sound blooms into a moan when Sir lets go. Letting blood return back to the skin, his nerves singing. His eyes shut so tight that stars burst behind his eyelids. His head pushes back harder into the bed, looking for something that can expel some of the boiling, flowing over pleasure. He’s drowning in pleasure. Anything might set him off.  _ He needs to cum. _

He strokes his free hand over the skin he’s just abused, pushing comfort and pleasure into the raw nerves, he brackets his hip with the hand when he’s done, he scissors his fingers, pushing and nudging his body wider- and Sebastian shouts. He nearly screams. 

He didn’t even notice the second finger push the rest of the way into him, breaching him. Pleasure swims up his throat, over the backs of his eyes, against the underside of his skin, and in his balls and cock. Boiling, simmering, waiting to be called upon. He just needs permission. Sparks of light and darkness dapple his nervous system, pushing him up and pulling him down, leaving him in limbo, making him vulnerable to any which way Sir might want to pull him. He’ll sway whichever way the fingertips landing across his skin permit him to. 

Sebastian hears a groan as the hand stroking his hip leaves but the weight of it lands next to his hip, denting the mattress, so he needn’t worry. He couldn’t worry- the fingers inside of him are trusting in earnest now. 

Cries fly out of his mouth, unable to keep up with the pulses of his thick, long fingers. His own fingers curl into his palms until his knuckles ache and then they stretch out, then they curl back, and uncurl, and the pattern repeats. Even though Sebastian is not aware of what the fuck his body is doing. All he’s aware of are the fingers inside of him, getting closer and closer to scratching the darkest, most carnal itch humans ever feel. Racing him to the edge. Stretching him, testing his internal muscles. Smoothing him out and unraveling him. Stroking his insides and lighting fires with every press or touch. Making his body melt and meld to whatever. 

Another finger joins the two already at home in his body and Sebastian is going to  _ die.  _

He feels open and spread, wide and cracked, full and stuffed, yet hollow and empty. He is nothing but pleasure. He is nothing but feeling, so much feeling that all he feels is heat. His head is spinning. His pulse pounding. His internal muscles are rippling and greedy, trying to get Sir to give him even more. Scheming to bewitch his dom into giving him what he wants the most even though he knows he will. 

The plan works a little too well and before he knows it the fingers inside of him, trying to get him ready, are being ripped away. 

Sebastian sobs. Gasping and whimpering and whining and making every high, pleading noise that he can. His tears - he  _ had _ been crying before but now he’s probably drooling too anyway so it doesn’t matter - rain heavy and generously over his cheeks, shattering into chokes and sobs. They seem like an under-reaction to the stripped away pleasure, even though crying over fingers when he could be getting cock is pretty dumb. He’s dumb. Fuck-dumb. 

His forearms decide that he’s going to pull at the cuffs and he does, he can’t control himself. He wants and he does, he is nothing but wanting. He is nothing but Chris’, Sir’s. 

Sir grabs his arms, one and then the other, silent but panting, telling him to not pull again. Breathing heavy and looming over him. Dominant and in charge. He writhes in place; he does not tug on the restraints. Sebastian wants to see his handsome, sweaty, aroused face - predatory above him - but he can’t make his eyes open. His head tilts further back, moving on its own axis, arching his neck and back until their chests are pressed together and his body aches with it. The ache there is nothing compared to the ache of his groin. Sir’s lips are plush and soft as they meet his. He keens. Sobbing harder when Sir growls into his mouth after a moment of just kissing, nipping at his lower lip, “gonna fuck you so good, baby.” 

He moans, tears spilling down his cheeks,  _ yes, yes, yes, yesyesyes, sir, yes sir, yes please. _

He cannot speak, he can barely swallow the dark, arousing sounds being fucked into his mouth as they kiss (he can’t kiss back but Sir  _ is _ kissing him), he can’t even beg for more, he can’t do anything but give himself away. Give himself over. He just thinks in circles, whimpering and whining and throbbing. Molten at the core, churning and restless despite the still body. Chanting  _ anything, I’ll give you anything, everything  _ over and over in his head and hoping that Chris can hear it somehow. That he can feel it at least. That he knows it. 

Sir backs away but he doesn’t go far. 

His hands leave the side of his face and his arms but they land on his thighs, tugging and moving and sliding his legs into place. Getting his legs thrown over his shoulders, positioning him where he wants him. Getting ready to fuck him. Sebastian moans with abandon. Shaking out of his skin, feeling everything too much and not enough. Staving off an orgasm just from the mere anticipation of having Sir’s cock finally inside of him. 

He barely hears the wet, slick sounds of his dom stroking himself, slicking himself up. Getting himself read after he’s gotten his sub ready. He hears his own blood rushing in his ears and he hears Sir’s deep, dark groans, his blissful moans, his bitten off gasps. His cheeks flush once more and it feels like his face should be swollen with how much he’s blushing. His ears are even burning. His neck and chest too. 

The tip of his cock, hot, wet, and  _ devastating  _ kisses his hole. Nudging him stickily. Warning him. 

Sebastian’s breathing stops, his lungs failing along with his internal clock and maybe the actual march of time itself. Sir’s cock is that good. Thick and long and hot and hard and throbbing, dashed with veins that feel like heaven against his insides, rearranging his organs and fucking his throat just the way he likes through his ass. Pounding into him. Drilling him. Making him see god. 

Chris pushes into him. 

Sebastian moans the whole time he slides in, slow but perfect, never pausing to allow for him to adjust but not going so quick that he wishes he would stop, his drawn out sound shrills out into silence by the end of it. Too pleasurable to describe with anything, not words or sounds for sure. There’s no more air left inside of him. Nothing is left inside of him but Sir. 

He’s hot and hard like always, stretching him and pushing him to his limits, stuffing him full. Making his toes curl with how perfectly thick he is. Pounding and thudding and pulsing inside of him, hard enough that he must ache too. Sebastian aches. Sir is inside of him. Making him feel every ridge and valley of him- every swollen vein and  _ everything.  _ His toes curl even tighter when he stops because he’s not sure how he’s so full, so stretched. He doesn’t know how Sir fits into him but he’s glad that he does because he’s knocking on heaven’s door, that’s how high it gets him. 

He feels Chris in his throat, making him choke again, in his belly, rearranging his guts, and in his hole, he’s  _ throbbing  _ around him. Sensitive and feverish. 

Then he moves. 

He pulls out a little, a  _ tiny  _ amount, and pushes back in. Rocking himself forward and back. 

Nothing spectacular on the surface even though it is. It. Is. 

It feels like heaven, like hell, like everything good at once. 

And Sebastian moans, he screams, the building rocking of his thrusts making his voice bounce higher and higher. His voice is already fraying and going hoarse- he’s not going to be able to speak, he’s getting fucked so good. He cries, sobs, and lets more overwhelming pleasure leak out of him because there is no other release. He hasn’t been told he can cum yet. 

Sir pounds into him. 

He thrusts in. And out. 

Heavy and drool-inducing. He’s angling himself just as he knows makes them both feel the best, hitting his prostate on every stroke, a pro at taking him apart. His breath is fanning hot and wet and erotic over his cheek as Sir holds onto the chain that’s holding him to the bed with a hand, using his other to hold more of his weight- weight that’s exquisitely pushing him into the mattress. Preventing him from sliding up the bed with weight and strength behind his fucking. He’s being bent in half, his legs resting on Sir’s shoulders but also being pressed to his own chest. 

His pleasure is unreal. He doesn’t know how to process any of it. He lets it rush over his skin, he lets it submerge his head, he lets it flow into his lungs, into his bloodstream, he lets it surround him. He can only moan. Only curl his toes and fingers. Only shut his eyes. Only barely breath. Only sob and weep on his dom’s cock. Only marginally understand what’s happening, his brain melting out of his ears. 

Sir is fucking him like he wants to _ break _ him. Groaning, swearing, and moaning into his skin as he pistons his hips. Drilling into him. 

He screams more or again or for the first time. He doesn’t know, he lets the sound free, tears rolling down his cheeks like waterfalls. His throat is hot and rough and then all he can do is gasp sharply, little expressions of  _ ah, ah, AH, AH, AH, AH _ ! that he only hears because he’s the one making them and they’re rattling around in his brain. He doesn’t care. He can’t swallow all of the pleasure being shoved down his throat. He wants to cum.  _ Not yet. Not yet.  _

Rampant, wild, frantic desperation curls tighter around him, burning straight through him, turning him to a pile of ash. Smothering him like a boa constrictor. It’s so wild and urgent that it’s unable to be contained in his body, he feels it sinking its teeth into his neck and drinking. Dragging him closer and closer and closer and  _ closer  _ to the edge. 

Until-

_ “Cum. Right now. Cum, sub.”  _

Sebastian’s body convulses in pleasure, his breathing stops and his heart stops. His vision whites out into hot and pure and blank ecstasy. Stronger than any drug on Earth. His cock aches and twitches and aches and throbs and he cries harder than he has in his  _ whole life  _ as he cums. 

As he lets go. 

_ Chris _

_ “Cum. Right now. Cum, sub.” _ Chris growls - craving to see him lose himself - knowing his voice is nothing but  _ dominant  _ to Sebastian’s hazy senses, his sub is nothing more than football fields of melted sugar and thinly spun desperation and need. And it’s lit a fire under him like it always has. Always will. An eternal flame- his salacious, insatiable hunger for Sebastian’s submission. 

His command doesn’t make much grammatical sense but he’s barely able to hold back all of the groans that want to spill over with his words, clouding them and turning them to nothing but another form of release, incoherent and primal, so he’s still proud of himself. Hell, he’s barely able to breath between the punching thrusts of his hips. He’s proud that he’s even getting any words out. 

He’s proud that he’s getting words out when there’s fire breathing down his neck and making him sweat buckets, little rivers running down his spine, spilling over with every animal thrust of his hips. Diving forward into the perfect heat of his submissive. When everything inside of him is on fire too. When his sweet submissive has held him in his mouth and taken him in. Teased him with everything that he loves the most. When he was honestly fucking worried and  _ stressed  _ about cumming straight through a fucking cock ring, designed to hold you off for as long as you wear it, dizzied by his own urges and needs while his sub sucked him, on his knees, for a fucking hour and half. Down or up or whatever-the-fuck, flying, in subspace. Pliant and eager and  _ sweet.  _

Sebastian cums around him. 

Following his orders to the ends of the earth. Floating beyond where Chris can go as a dom. 

He’s clenching him impossibly tighter, his muscles pulsing and rippling, urging him on. His face screwing up in gorgeous release and relief- in brilliant ecstasy. Little, helpless mewls of the drags and undercurrents of pleasure puffing out from between his pretty lips as he cums. His voice is wrecked. Scratchy and overused. 

One single, tiny, barely audible, but unbearably erotic cry of,  _ “sir-!”  _ falls out of his submissive as he falls completely limp, seemingly falling asleep on command. Rushing into unconsciousness. 

And he follows. 

Cumming into his Sebastian, panting and moaning and scarcely breathing, painting his insides even hotter. Burning up from the outside in or the inside out, his orgasm exploding through him, Nuking him. He keeps cumming, keeps thrusting, keeps moaning, rumbling, “Seb- _Seb,”_ reverently as he fucks into him. Filling him up. Boiling over with pleasure pulsing under his skin. 

Unwinding every tangle in his body, stringing him out, stretching him out. Out. Beyond. Making him go lax on top of his submissive, his arms shaking, his breathing uneven, his pleasure unmatched, “love you, so much.” He whispers, unable to stop himself even though he knows his sub is beyond hearing now. He knows he knows it too. He just says it because he can. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write some serious aftercare for this chapter but then I finished writing the ending of the smut and thought, huh, no, I ̶d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶ I don't think that fits. It feels to me like this is where this should end, but know that the only planned thing I wrote out for the ending aftercare was, "Later when Seb comes to he giggles and presses his face into Chris, “think you’ve a fixation for m’ oral fixation.” Loopy and soft, slurring and staring at his dom, his Sir, his Chris with stars in his eyes."   
> So feel free to totally imagine Chris untying a still unconscious, floating Sebastian and arranging him to lay on top of his chest until he wakes up. When he wakes up Chris would tell him that he'd be right back and would go and start the bath, then grab a water bottle from the fridge plus some pre-cut up cheese (and maybe some chocolate); so he could feed Seb and make him drink before cuddling with him in the tub. After they're done you can bet your ass that Sebastian would be allowed to take Chris' fingers back into his mouth as he falls asleep, still a little ways under.
> 
> Anyway- what did you guys think? Of anything, like, seriously. I am depraved of interaction with readers because evanstan stuff never does as well as stucky stuff for me. Kudos, comments, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated on here and on tumblr (https://fandomfluffandfuck.tumblr.com/) asks are also very appreciated!! I hope you enjoyed your time reading! <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> You guys know, if you're returning especially (and if you are I thank you SO much), that I Love comments... so what do you guys think so far? Updates shall come as soon as I finish writing them lol. I'm looking forward to getting to work more on this, I love world building and theorizing on how possibly evanstan came to be.
> 
> You are very very encouraged and welcome to yell at me here in the comments or over on tumblr: https://fandomfluffandfuck.tumblr.com/


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